The Slap

It is the plight only of a nerd to get a punch in the gut from an inanimate object.

How is it, exactly, that we end up like this? Felled by a few quick words on a white page. I've got no idea, but plenty of experience.
One of the most recent of these was reading what I referred to as a "rather small, rather fat, and very annoying" book. Namely, the first book in the wonderful George R. R. Martin's epic saga, Game of Thrones. Surprisingly, it wasn't one of the man's infamous bloody executions.
I, like many others, go to books for emotion. If I'm not moved in some way by a book, I'm unlikely to continue devoting time to it. I was mainly muddling my way through that book-a dense version of Mad Men set in Middle Earth-until recently. Then the end of a scene shocked my into thinking I might just end up in love with this universe.
See, Martin managed to do something that can be exceptionally difficult to do: he surprised me.
When I first met the black brothers, I was, like our dear bastard narrator, hardly enamoured. I had been promised noble rangers and got rapers.
It still stuns me a bit how skillfully Martin played the reader with this trick. Once Samwell joined the group, it became abundantly clear that this ragtag band of misfits were going to-well-band together. Proper brothers, not just boys.
A completely unexpected turn of events to my eyes. I hadn't expected that life of Jon's to get any better. I thought Martin would doom him to years of frozen wastes, hideous bullies, and sneaking ghosts. No doubt they'll all be killed off cruelly sometime, but for now, I think I'll enjoy the bromance.
Another such incident came when I joined a high school Lit class for the first time a while back. I agreed to take this class only for what I knew it would do for my grades and GPA, expecting nothing beyond the usual dryness I got from the classics.
The first book we were assigned was Harper Lee's To Kill A Mockingbird. My elder sister had sung the praises of one of the characters to me earlier, so, thankfully, I went into the reading with tentative hope.
And, boy, did it do her lauding credit.
I got, not a dull, unremarkable story to report on, but an engaging, meaningful book with characters I loved and an ending that made me regret that there were no more pages. I've enjoyed every assignment since then. I guess that'll teach me to judge a book by its cover....
The only other time I can remember being slapped so hard is when I started Beautiful Creatures. Still on my to-finish list...
I have long been guilty of being just a bit snobby, especially when it comes to books and cleverness. When I got the two-inch-thick YA novel from the library, I was expecting something like what I'd always gotten when I tried to read most YA: a decent, if a bit too romance-centered plot, a predictable-but-cute love interest, and a female narrator who I may or may not like.
So when I opened up the book and found myself speaking to a snarky midteenaged boy talking about some very suspicious dreams, you can imagine I was a little surprised. I may have actually had to put down the book and raise my hands to the heavens and thank the Lord above for original authors.
This is why I would still like to meet authors. To maybe, possibly, have a chance to thank them for what they've done for me. The tears, both happy and sad, the hours past twelve when I really should have been sleeping, and most of all the surprises.
May your swords stay sharp and your chocolate stocks always plentiful.