The Emptiness That Comes With Finishing a Cassandra Clare Book

…if you didn’t already read the title, this post is about Cassandra Clare books. About an hour or so ago, I finished Lord of Shadows, Cassie’s new book and my 11th (?) book of hers.

And, as always, I feel empty.

I know her books have a lot of controversy surrounding them. Many don’t like the fact that she’s published so many in the Shadowhunter world, others don’t like the characters, so on so forth. But ever since I read City of Bones in 7th grade (it’s been like 3 and a half years now?), I’ve been in love with her books.

Sure, they have flaws. Sure, they could be better. But with each book, I swear, her books just get even more intense. While I don’t think I loved LoS just as much as Lady Midnight, I sure as hell still loved it. There’s just something about them that usually doesn’t happen to me with other books. Where I’m so engrossed in the story that I just keep reading and reading and reading.

And then I finish, and it’s done, and usually the ending is heartbreaking. (Of course that’s exactly what happened with LoS. I won’t be getting into spoilers, but for me it had the most heartbreaking ending I’ve ever read from all of her books.)

I wrote about this last year when I read Lady Midnight and how much I loved it. They’re just so beautiful, and I think the only book series that I can call intoxicating. Every year, I forget how much I love her books, and every year, I read a new one and fall in love with the world all over again.

Thank you for this experience, Cassie. Thank you.

Do any of you guys know what I mean in this post about her books? The emptiness, the wonderfulness that accompanies her series? I can’t wait to discuss with you guys!

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