I like it when stories end. I like British television, where six episodes can be a season. I like self-contained graphic novels. I like standalone fantasy. I like being able to look at something as a whole: beginning, middle, and end. I absolutely loved Finnikin of the Rock (a 2011 Best Fiction for Young Adults Top Ten title). It had so many things I like in it: powerful magic with few enough rules to be open to interpretation, a hero to fall in love with, a well-traveled world that leaps off the page, vivid intensity between romantic leads, and it all took place in just one book. And then I found out it was going to have sequels and I felt a lot of things, the first of which was disappointed. Can’t anything be just one book anymore? (Yes, sometimes.) Why does everything have to turn into a series? (Probably for a lot of reasons, not the least of which is marketing, but ultimately I decided more might not be a bad thing.) Here’s what happened:
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Published March 1, 2011
We all want more when we’ve finished a good book, or are waiting for more in a series. But what if there are bits that…