I’ve mentioned before the reasons I feel so sad every time I finish Amelia, so I won’t repeat myself. But I do have a few other random Amelia thoughts:

She gets Sennia’s eye color wrong in the last book. I mentioned this (just as a point of interest, not a complaint) to my mom, who trotted out the old Unreliable Narrator excuse. I don’t think Unreliable Narrator is a viable explanation for legitimate mistakes on the author’s part. Well, at least not always. Not in this case. But whatever.

Speaking of Amelia’s UN status… it’s hilarious how she and Emerson have got to be in their late sixties or older by the end, and other characters (specifically Gargery, of whom Emerson said at some point, “He is younger than we are”) get old and infirm around them while they remain untouched by time. Oh, Amelia.

I really like how there is no individual (primary) villain in the last book. To have them targeted by and up against a shadowy, impersonal conglomerate of ruthless capitalists (against whom they can’t really win) seems, somehow, very appropriate for the end of the series, and is a nice change from the usual lineup of psychopaths.

I always feel so bad about Howard. He’s so likable in earlier books. I think he goes through a very believable character transition (and it may be quite accurate historically), but it’s sad to see the Emersons lose him as a friend the way they do.

I think that’s all I have to say about Amelia. A few other book thoughts before I go:

I’ve been really annoyed by Boromir this time around. I have never particularly liked him, but I’ve always felt that I understood and respected him, and therefore haven’t particularly disliked him either. But this time, every word out of his stupid mouth has made me want to smack him. How odd.

I tried to read Silas Marner again, and it didn’t work; I’m still too embittered by my previous read. I got going just fine, but after a while the prose were just so unbelievably good that the contrast with my memory of what a crap story it was became too great, and I had to move on to something else. So frustrating. I’ma try something else by George Eliot one of these days and see if I like it any better, since her writing was really amazing. If only she hadn’t (apparently) gotten bored with that book halfway through.