In preparation for the release of Sucker Punch in August, I recently completed a reread of the entire Anita Blake series. Every time I do this, I find myself wondering about different questions and I pepper my friends who are also fans with questions AND go on rants about primarily Richard but some of the others as well. There are books i seem to fly through and others where I slog through. Each time those books change, so I am not going to say which ones read slow or fast.
So, here for your consumption is a list of things (passages) that spoke to me this read through not necessarily in order so you will have to search to find them:
The practicalities of life do not cease needing to be done just because other things are going wrong.
Love’s hard to come by, Edward; you should never throw it away just because it’s a bad idea.
Either choice was a bad one. Multiple choice should have at least one right answer, but some people only come with wrong answers. Some people are like rigged tests where you can only fail.
It can always get worse.
The love of a lover, of friends, and of partners, of people that I never wanted to lose, and damn day. It was about home. Home wasn’t a place, or a building, or a tropical night full of flowers and rain. Love made home not out of boards and walls and furniture, but of hands to hold, and smiles to share, and the warmth of that body cuddled around you in the dark.
comforting hands, our bodies that had made us all home, and the craziness of having too many people, too much going on, but what would we give up, who would we give up, and the answer, in the end, was not a single thing.
Love is never about the object of our love, but always says more about us than them.
no one knows you as honestly, warts and all, as the people who love you, truly love you.’
‘True love means you love the real person, not an ideal that you have in your head and superimpose over them.
I’d grown to understand that love, real love, is full of choices that make no sense, that should go horribly wrong, but you make the choice anyway. Why? Because love is different.
I opened my mouth, closed it, and then shook my head. There was as sure where “here” was anymore.
Because I had had a nasty shock and was all emotionally vulnerable; that usually made me want to either run for the hills or get angry and stay angry.
You can experience trauma without getting stuck as the victim forever. You can choose to work the shit and rebuild yourself, or you can sit in the ruins and mourn forever.
Sometimes there isn’t enough therapy in the world to fix a person, and that’s when you have to find another cure.
There are so few true villains, just other screwed-up people who pass the damage on.
The elderly will also begin to decline faster if they don’t have anyone to touch them. Patting someone’s hand, or shoulder, a hug, all of it is necessary to be happy and healthy for most people. It doesn’t have to have anything to do with sex; in fact, most of the touch that keeps us all going is as innocent as a newborn lamb frolicking on the spring grass,
the thought of how close I must have come to losing the man in my arms scared me more than anything else. Sex was not a fate worse than death, because with life there was always hope. Hope that the big breakup wasn’t permanent. Hope that the issues that drove you apart might bring you back together again. Hope that you’d see their smile again, even if they were with someone else. Only death was final, and without hope; short of that, there were options.
There’s a lot of ways to be smart; the kind that gets you straight A’s in school is only one way.
It was like someone who is so used to being made fun of that they say the mean things first, try to make it their joke, so the bullies don’t get a chance to cut them up. It works, in a way, but it means the person saying the words internalizes the message more, because they’re the ones saying stupid, clumsy, fat, ugly —whatever the bullies might say.
being in love makes people beautiful, and falling out of love makes you see the truth. It may set you free, but it’s going to fuck you up before it does.
It was like someone who is so used to being made fun of that they say the mean things first, try to make it their joke, so the bullies don’t get a chance to cut them up. It works, in a way, but it means the person saying the words internalizes the message more, because they’re the ones saying stupid, clumsy, fat, ugly —whatever the bullies might say.
being in love makes people beautiful, and falling out of love makes you see the truth. It may set you free, but it’s going to fuck you up before it does.
love could be a cup that you both filled up with love, kindness, joy, sex, all the things that made you a couple, but if you could fill the cup up, you could also drain it dry with cruelty, sorrow, pain, jealousy, and anger.
“Sorry, Damian, but it doesn’t make sense to me when I do it either. If something makes you happy you should just enjoy it and embrace it, but I’ve got a whole list of things that make me happy and I fought like hell not to enjoy them, not to want them, not to do them, because they didn’t match who I thought I was, or who I thought I should be.”
Just tell me what she’s done, Anita. That should be awful enough to help us appreciate whatever happiness we can find.
we must trust each other, for we are built link by link into a chain that is stronger together than as a pile of individual links.
Your first lover gets a piece of your heart until you have enough therapy to take it back.
But one thing I’d learned in therapy was that just because a feeling made no sense didn’t make you stop feeling it.
“As much as I’d prefer the world to be black and white, yes or no, right or wrong, Nicky’s right: Sometimes you can be both,”
Fear will bind you closer than love, or hate, and it works a hell of a lot quicker.
So many traumatic events and your time sense screws up. Too much happening in too short a space of time.
The trick would be to decide whom to be grumpy at, and what to do about it.
I had been running on fear, adrenaline, and stubbornness for hours. In the quiet hush of the car I could feel my body. It was not happy.
The hour after dawn is the most private of all.
You’d think I’d get used to not knowing what the hell is going on, but I never do. It just makes me grumpy, and a little scared.
If you keep the gun in your purse, you get killed, because no woman can find anything in her purse in under twelve minutes. It is a rule.
Most people choose to think of themselves as white hats, good guys. A few people wear black hats and enjoy it. Grey was Bert’s color. Sometimes I think if you cut him, he’d bleed green, fresh-minted money.
There was something a little frightening about a man who knew he was not a nice person and didn’t give a damn. It went against everything America holds dear. We are taught above all else to be nice, to be liked, to be popular. A person who has set aside all that is a maverick and a potentially dangerous human being.
It takes real breeding to make a person feel like shit with one word.
When in doubt, change your vocabulary.
There was something a little frightening about a man who knew he was not a nice person and didn’t give a damn. It went against everything America holds dear. We are taught above all else to be nice, to be liked, to be popular. A person who has set aside all that is a maverick and a potentially dangerous human being.
there are days when I think you can’t save anyone.
When in doubt, take a deep breath and keep moving.
Murphy’s law is the only true dependable in my life most of the time.
I was the closest thing Edward had to a real friend. A person who knows who and what you are and likes you anyway. I did like him, despite or because of what he was.
He had bet his life on my integrity, and that pissed me off. I hate to be used. My virtue had become its own punishment.
Remember, no one can make you feel inferior without your consent.
We had saved each other’s lives; it is a bond that sticks with you.
Most hatred is based on fear, one way or another. Yeah. I wrapped myself in anger, with a dash of hate, and at the bottom of it all was an icy center of pure terror.
A zillion brownie points for me.
Women may get to wear lots of pretty colors, but men get the comfortable shoes.
You never really filled in the hole. It was like a piece of you gone goes away. You deal with it. You go on, but it’s there.
Only inhibitors in the brain prevent us all from destroying ourselves.
No one had ever attacked me at home before, not like this. It should have been against the rules. You should be safe in your own bed.
She had broken a rule. One I hadn’t even known I had. Thou shalt not attack the good guy in his, or her, own home.
Coffee was my comfort drink.
But I’ve been stared at by experts, so I was careful not to flinch.
Sarcasm is one of my natural talents.
Freud is so often at work in our lives.
Hope is a lying bitch.
It felt wet, like it had soaked through to the skin, but it hadn’t. It was a sensory illusion.
People are seldom just one thing.
There are fires that last for all eternity. Fires that make napalm look like a temporary inconvenience.
I notice all sorts of things that go unnoticed during most of life.
I could taste my calm, orderly pulse in my mouth like a piece of candy.
For tension release laughter beats the hell out of tears.
I had the urge to giggle, but that was the pain medication. I never giggle on my own.
some drugs don’t give a shit if you need your body. You belong to the drug until it wears off, period.
staying alive was the goal. Everything else was gravy.
Best friends, a concept that most women never outgrow.
If I ever managed to get married and my husband cheated on me, it wouldn’t be me to go missing.
If you’re not ashamed, you don’t need to look away.
hysteria gets you nowhere but dead.
Worry about the things you can control; the rest will either work themselves out, or they’ll kill you. Either way, no more worries.
you can be embarrassed or you can be aggressive.
Truth, justice, and the American way certainly didn’t work within the legal system. Money, power, and luck were what worked.
Anita. No matter what you do or how bad you feel about it, life just goes on. Life doesn’t give a fuck that you’re sorry or upset or deranged or tormented. Life just goes on, and you gotta go on with it, or sit in the middle of the road and feel sorry for yourself.
I never doubted God. I doubted me. But maybe God was a more generous God than I allowed him to be.
I felt that measure of calm that I sometimes got when I prayed. It doesn’t mean you’ll get what you asked for, but it does mean that someone is listening.
If you can’t impress yourself, then no one else really matters.
Why is it when you have a sure thing to bet on, there’s never anyone around to take your money?
it used to bother me that I could be in such confusion, such pain, and the world just didn’t give a shit. The world, the creation as a whole, is designed to move forward, to keep on keeping on without any one individual person. It feels damned impersonal, and it is. But, then, if the world stopped rotating just because one of us was having a bad day, we’d all be floating out in space.
I’d learned long ago that if you’re feeling unloved by the man in your life, the best revenge is to look good
“The heart wants what the heart wants, Dolph. You don’t plan on making your life complicated, it just happens, and you don’t do it on purpose, and you don’t do it to hurt the people who love you. It just turns out that way sometimes.”
I thought of several smart alec remarks, but you should humor crazy people when you’re at their mercy; it’s a rule.
You can’t shovel other people’s shit for them, not unless they’re willing to pick up a shovel and help.
There’s only so much emotional super glue in a person’s soul, after that everything just stays broken.
It was a little like being in shock. Shock is nature’s insulation, the thing that shuts you down so you can heal, or sometimes so you can die without hurting, or being afraid.
I guess you can’t undo all your upbringing, no matter how hard you try.
sometimes guilt or habit makes you listen to those other voices—the ones that beat you down. Sometimes you just can’t shake them.
“You ate the living darkness, Anita. It has given your own necromancy a power jump of near-legendary proportions. You raised every cemetery and lone body in and around the city of Boulder, Colorado last year, while you chased down the spirit of the Lover of Death, one of the last members of the now-disbanded vampire council who did not bend knee to Jean-Claude’s rebellion.” “You say rebellion. I say killing crazy motherfuckers to save the world from their plans to spread vampirism and contagious zombie plague across the planet.” “It would have been an apocalypse for the human race.” “But not the apocalypse.” “You mean the biblical one?” he asked. “Yeah, as in the apocalypse.” “You say that as if there is only one.” “There is only one.” “You have prevented two on your own. We have prevented more events that would have destroyed the planet, or at least the human population. Some of us lived through the last great extinction and the coming of the great winter.” “You mean the Ice Age, as in the real Ice Age.” He nodded. I took in a deep breath, let it out slow, and said, “Okay, some of you guys are old as fuck. Make your point.” “My point, Anita, is that apocalypse as in the great devastation or second coming of some religious significance has happened before and will likely happen again.” “I’m not sure we’re defining it the same way,” I said. “Perhaps not, but there really does need to be a plural for apocalypse .”
A few years back I’d have argued until either we had a fight or the cows came home, but therapy had helped me realize that I could just let some things go.
Real love is about consistency over time, battles won, battles lost, the pain, the pleasure, the sharing.
Strength shared is strength multiplied.
She just looked happy, and nothing makes someone as beautiful as happiness and being in love. No makeup or youth serum can come close to that beauty secret.
Who wanted to be around a constant stream of negativity?
I knew he would shield me with his own body, and the strength that would have scared me under other circumstances now became the ultimate comfort. I knew that all that energy and strength was now aimed at keeping me safe. The difference between prince and beast is often just a matter of how a man uses his strength and rage. Aimed well, it is a shelter that you can hide behind no matter how great the storm. Turned against you, it makes shelter into a trap.
Sometimes you need to embrace the suck and just go along for the ride, but sometimes you need to tell whoever is making your life suck to stop being a dick and do better. Tyburn was now on my you-almost-killed-me-so-do-better-or-let-me-drive list
Part of wisdom is being honest with yourself,
#Sucker Punch #Anita Blake #LaurellKHamilton
We are going to entertain you with a fiction,” He continued, “A faerie tale, a story, something dreamt of dozens of tens of years ago. Imagine my surprise when it turned into…” "A memory.” Cory stepped forward at his right and carried the narrative thread, just as they had rehearsed. “A memorial, a lament, a dirge, a paean…” "An exultation.” Bracken stepped forward carefully avoiding another touch with Cory, but at her other shoulder, “A cleansing, a triumph, a celebration.” "Yes.” Green took up his part now. “All of this and more, because this is a love song for our friend,” "Our lover,” said Cory and Andres. "Our brother,“ Said Bracken. "Our son,” Said Arturo and Grace. “Our leader,” Said Renny and the vampires as they stepped forward together in a group. “Our beloved,” they all intoned together, and the echoes of their true love for their lost dear one lingered in the room for more than a few heartbeats. “We’re singing for Adrian,” Cory said then, alone, clearly, the heartbreak throbbing in her voice and in her intense, thin face. Her shoulders were bare, and she bore his mark on her back, and it was all Green could do to keep his throat clear for singing. "We will always sing for Adrian,” Cory added bravely, “Even though we hadn’t known he’d missed, and struck the opening chords of an old, old melody that now lay forgotten except in the minds of the fey who had grown up in the old countries and woods of Northern England, Ireland, and Wales. Singing in parts and counterpoint, Green, Bracken and Cory poured their heart into a song he’d written long before he’d left his home, met Adrian, or dreamt of Cory. Corinna and Allen and Graeme, Over the hills they ran A bonny bright girl with a ribbon, O, two boys as thick as kin. They toddled under the lime tree, O, they toddled under the rose They toddled ‘till sun set, behind the Oak, they toddled from when the sun rose. Corinna why are you crying, O, Over a shirt stained red, Rain will fall and trees will grow And you will find lovers again. O We’re young; there is no time to waste. Corinna and Allen were lovers in fall, Over by yonder rose tree, Graeme came looking for his beloveds And wept at what he did see. Corinna why are you crying O, Over a shirt stained red, Rain will fall and trees will grow And you will find lovers again. Graeme ran like a man possessed He ran like he was followed by hell, He snapped his strong leg in painful two When into a gully he fell. So Graeme sat, with bounded leg When the militia came to town desert We aim to hunt them down. “ Corinna why are you crying O, Over a shirt stained red, Rain will fall and trees will grow And you will find lovers again. Allen came calling in darkest night And begged, "My brother, forgive me. I fed my love and broke your heart And we all can no longer be. But I run away to fight the day That our young men must wear red. I leave Corinna to your care, my friend. “ And with these words he fled. Corinna why are you crying O, Over a shirt stained red, Rain will fall and trees will grow And you will find lovers again. fight. No letter came, no friendly word Til field and moor turned green A spent young man came bearing a burden In which a bloody shirt could be seen. "Corinna, this is from Allen, know Your lover now lies dead. “ "Oh, Graeme, our friend, my life has ended I’ll never love again.” Summer passed and winter too, Corinna sat and wept. Graeme’s leg healed, but not his heart Until his promise then he kept. "Corinna, come stop your crying, O No. Not while the Spring is here. Corinna you must leave your weeping, O Please, beloved, please come. My arms are aching to hold you, know My heart can be your home. “ Corinna and Graeme were married, O As the summer died to fall. Their hearts still ache for Allen, though They love each other as all. And Rain will fall and trees will grow And you will have lovers again… Rain will fall and trees will grow And we will be lovers again. The end of the song was a repeat of the chorus, broken up and sung in passionate roundels. Cory’s voice soared over the chanted refrain of rain will fall, trees will grow, aching with the promise of hope and the heartbreak of loss as Green and Bracken called Corinna back to the land of the living. The fey in the harmony, intertwining, echoing, repeating the pain and the joy of love lost and found. The roundel built, and rose, and the emotion in the room crested, a giant wave of anguish, grief, and rebirth, and as their skin prickled with passion, their power—fed by anger and love and sex and emotion—burgeoned, grew, lifted, moved, heaved the pitch of the room to breathlessness, and everyone on stage raised their wounded wrists and released their bindings, and everyone off stage with a similar wound did the same, and Bracken finally, finally, answered the call of all that freely offered blood.
Amy Lane, Wounded
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