I finished Kim Wilkin's Autumn Castle tonight, after picking it up on and off for several months. It definitely picked up around midway through--I think I went through half of it today.
I like the ending a lot--it was happy and doubtful in the right places. And I never once felt that red-pencil twitchiness that plagues me so much lately. The characters (with one notable exception) were real and well drawn, even when I want to bludgeon them to death with pointy shoes.
But sweet Mithras on a moped, I hated that villain. More specifically, I hated that Wilkins made me hate him. I had absolutely no choice. I couldn't even root for him out of spite. I couldn't even enjoy or appreciate his villainy while rooting for his demise. He was just nasty and horrid, and couldn't even disguise his nasty horridness from either the reader or the characters.
Argh.
Villains are people too. And if they're not, why should we ever care? There are plenty of real people I would love to see reap some karma. I can hate a real person and still acknowledge their realness. I don't give a rat's fuzzy backside about some capering caricature.
But I will check out Giants of the Frost. I hope this villain issue was a passing illness and not some congenital problem.
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