porphyrin's banana bread is ready, and I did finish Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell this morning, so on the whole I think I'm ready to go. On the latter: those of you who know my leanings will be glad (on my behalf, at least) to hear that it was a Rebirth of the Magic ending, not a Death of the Magic ending, and those are such broad categories that I don't think I've spoiled anything by saying so. (The third fantasy ending category in Mrissaland, also good, is Life of the Magic. Life of the Magic is fine. Rebirth of the Magic is fine. Death of the Magic: NOOOOOOOOOOO. And that is my piece of theory for the day.)
As I'm going to say at some point today over on my other journal, I don't see why this was a fantasy novel they thought was marketable as mainstream when others are not. Because...it was a fantasy novel. It really, really was. This is neither a compliment nor a complaint, as I have liked and hated various fantasy novels. But at the risk of going all Ayn Rand on you, a thing is itself, and that's what itself was.