Sort of a Love letter.
Posted January 4, 2011on:
This is sort of a love letter, and if you haven’t read Scott Lynch, you should.
I suppose things like this should be sent privately, but if humans were capable of keeping private things private, the internet would have gone out of business years ago.
Scott Lynch, how do I love your books? Let me count the ways.
You are the master of misdirection. I have never so enjoyed being a mark.
You brilliantly bring colorfully filthy language to an artform. Invective, sarcasm, dry wit, I can think of no one who does it better.
Your characters might be smart, but the women they face are smarter. Speaking man to man, Locke can charm a fellow into or out of just about anything. But women? If they don’t see through him a mile away they are at least instantly suspicious. I find that rather flattering.
Your fiction is theraputic. When I’m down, reading The Lies of Locke Lamora makes me feel better. It makes me laugh, it makes me snort, it makes me feel smart and scared and brave and confident that I can pull it off too. Although by “it”, I usually mean a complicated recipe, calculus, or a killer job interview.
Reading your books always puts me in an infectiously good mood. Even more swear word laden than usual, but very good and very infectious.
I’m not big on anthologies, but when I saw your name on the cover of the Swords and Dark Magic I bought it without question and read In The Stacks that night. I’ve since read that story three times.
Everything I need to know about life I learned from reading Scott Lynch: Street smart and book smart are equally important. Don’t fuck with magicians. Your friends will do everything to keep you safe and alive, see that you do the same for them. Filthy language is fun, but knowing how to properly use it is truly shiny.
I’m reading Red Seas Under Red Skies right now, and I simply can’t wait until I finish it and write the review to share this magnificent line of dialog with you:
“How the screaming f***ing hell do you expect the two of us to raise a bloody pirate armada in a place we’ve never been and convince it to merrily die at the hands of the navy that bent it over the table and f***ed it in the ass the last time?”
Granted that is probably the filthiest line in the book, but how can you not at least chuckle at something like that?
How much do I love Scott Lynch?
If Scott Lynch and David Tennant were signing autographs at the same convention, they better be at the same table because I wouldn’t be able to choose which line to stand in first.
I talk about Scott Lynch so much that my husband has ceased being jealous. But I get the impression he’d like me to shut up one of these days about my crush on David Tennant, who I have just learned is officially off the market.