I have to admit, I started out reading this because I was convinced I'd hate it. After all, it's fans were driving me crazy, and as far as I could tell from the overview it was just another gothic/urban fantasy romance novel. But as I like to know what I'm talking about when I decry something, I decided to read as far into the book as I could stand. At first I skimmed, convinced in my bias that I was already wasting my time. And then...I started reading. And I couldn't stop. I went back and re-read what I'd skimmed, and by the time I finished I was bewildered that I'd actually enjoyed myself. The story, the setting, the structuring, and the writing style were all very much up my alley.
I didn't stop there, oh no. So maybe the first book was pretty good, but surely the author would disappoint me in the next book or two by progressing the tactfully sensual into the irreverently sexual. But by the time I got to the fourth book I finally accepted that she had somehow been candid and true to the teenage hormone-driven emotional overload without skipping down the easy, predictable route that some callously do. Ultimately, I'm glad it's become such an icon for the current generation. It's nice to know there is something of influence in the culture that doesn't encourage the prevailing confusion over the difference between sex and love.