Dead Until Dark, Charlaine Harris

Oh my god, dudes, how many years have I been meaning to read this book?!

For longer than the TV show has existed, that’s how long. When did I finally get around to it? This year. 2018. Jesus.

Nevertheless, I did finally get to it! And I’m going to be honest here, even considering the fact that I did actually pick it up and read it, that minor success is only due to the fact that I needed to read a book with an ugly cover for this year’s PopSugar Reading Challenge, and I found a copy of this in the second-hand store with the TV cover (see right). I despise film- and TV covers. Seriously, they are utterly awful and I truly, truly wish that publishers would stop releasing AND RE-RELEASING books with hideous adaptation covers! Also, I was procrastinating some research reading.

That, however, is mostly irrelevant to this review, which is actually, honestly, overall positive. It was several hours well spent and this book is the EPITOME of “the book was better.” I quite enjoyed it, and despite having seen (bits of) the show and thus knowing who the murderer was, the writing was good enough and the extra plot and character details sufficient that my foreknowledge made no difference to my enjoyment of the book, nor of my genuine surprise at the way some of the events unravelled. True Blood (the TV adaptation) is fine I guess, and let’s be real here: anything with Alexander Skarsgård is never going to be something I hate. But the books, if the first in the series is any indication, are better by a country mile. For one, the detail. That’s true of every single adaptation ever though, so you can’t put much stock in that. The variation, though? Well, hell, son. HBO took some liberties.

L. I. B. E. R. T. I. E. S.

On the other hand, there was also enough in the book that differed from the show that I was (mostly pleasantly) surprised as I read this particular title. I will say though, I’m not entirely sure how they managed to stretch Dead Until Dark into an entire bloody season of a show, which I suppose does explain a few of the oddities of True Blood. Which, yes, I did go back and review after having finished this book. Still not entirely certain about the show (haven’t gone past season one yet, may do so if I keep reading), although I most certainly am a fan of Alexander Skarsgård. Yes I am. Bless that long hair phase.

It isn’t a long read, and it isn’t overly complicated, but it was several hours well-procrastinated and I think I will continue on with the series. You know. Eventually.


Image credits: I took the photo, and the book (sadly, given the cover) is also mine.

Categories: supernatural

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3 replies

  1. I’ve read all of the books and watched all seasons of the show and the books are DEFINITELY better than the show right the way through.


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