I picked up The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss for my trip to GenCon, and I figured that would be plenty of book to keep me busy in the air. I was right, except that it was also compelling enough that I read it on the ground every night while at GenCon and ran out of Rothfuss during the layover on my return flight.
I've been told that running out of Rothfuss is not particularly difficult, though the challenge rating is supposed to double next spring. I put my foot in my mouth regarding this subject during a particularly choice moment at Penguicon, but I've told that story already.
While at Penguicon I met Gail Carriger and Peter V. Brett. Peter handed me a book (which I devoured and blogged about) but Gail had no more books to hand out. Fortunately for us all, I found her first book, Soulless, in the Cincinnati airport on Monday, and was able to barter for it. The kindly, old bookseller traded it to me for the opportunity to closely examine one of the cards in my wallet.
I should here point out that these are two very, very different books. Very very very. More verys than a good editor will allow you to use in a novel, much less a single blog post. But I liked them both. The Name of the Wind is epic fantasy set in a richly imagined world, and Soulless is a more of a comedic steampunk bodice-ripper. I wouldn't have imagined myself as the bodice-ripping sort, but this is steampunk with vampires, werewolves, and parasols. Also, I suspect it's not quite as bodice-rippingly sensual as most bodice-rippers. It was almost modest, in that regard. So, I'm in.