Unlike with Hunger Games, when finishing the series brought on a sort of bitter-sweet relief, finishing The Scorpio Races came as a horrible shock. I was reading it on Kindle and hadn’t checked to see how close I was to the end and then suddenly, with the flick of my finger, I was staring at the LAST PAGE! I was seriously dismayed. Imagine tears coming out of this face:
What a beautiful, spare story. It draws you in subtly and carefully so that you’re completely immersed, and then it offers you these little moments of pure writer’s joy in a play of words, a particularly beautiful description, a joke that doesn’t feel jokey. Sean Kendrick and Puck Connolly may be my new favorite protagonists, and Maggie Stiefvater has my gratitude and respect for writing something so…beautiful. How many times have I used that word in one paragraph?
Well, it IS beautiful. It’s one of those books that inspires you to write (and to write better) while simultaneously making you despair at ever being that good. I’m not saying it’s perfect, but it’s lovely.
This is one that needs a permanent and physical space in my library. Maybe I’ll go buy it now and then read it AGAIN when it comes in the mail…