Book Review: Firefight

What a wonderful book. I honestly felt like a kid reading this book. It's just so much fun. I loved Brandon Sanderson's first novel in the Reckoners series, Steelheart, and somehow Firefight continues the charm of the first. What I love about Firefight is that Sanderson is able to capture just the right tone for this series about normal people fighting super heroes.

I laughed more in this book then in any other I've read in a long time. Sure the bad metaphors (or similes) is a joke device that might be used to often. But it fits. The characters have this incredibly smooth way of working together to fit a cohesive unit. Just like any good popcorn summer movie it has a great pacing of comedy and intrigue to keep the story going. I continue to fall more and more in love with the main character David. He's got a lot of depth for a book about super heroes. We get to learn so much more about the world that Sanderson has built and the Epics (the bad super heroes). 

I couldn't get enough of Firefight. I texted Ally (my sister) multiple times while reading it (since she read it before me) with texts of horror and delight at some of the books twists and turns. I absolutely loved Firefight. It brought the inner-child in me that wanted to throw back on my Superman cape and fly away. Truly wonderful book and I cannot wait for the next one. 

You’re like a potato!” I shouted after her. “In a minefield.”
She froze in place. Then she spun on me, her face lit by a half-grown fruit. “A potato,” she said flatly. “That’s the best you can do? Seriously?”
“It makes sense,” I said. “Listen. You’re strolling through a minefield, worried about getting blown up. And then you step on something, and you think, ‘I’m dead.’ But it’s just a potato. And you’re so relieved to find something so wonderful when you expected something so awful. That’s what you are. To me.”
“A potato.”
“Sure. French fries? Mashed potatoes? Who doesn’t like potatoes?”
“Plenty of people. Why can’t I be something sweet, like a cake?”
“Because cake wouldn’t grow in a minefield. Obviously.”
She stared down the hallway at me for a few moments, then sat on an overgrown set of roots.
Sparks. She seemed to be crying. Idiot! I thought at myself, scrambling through the foliage. Romantic. You were supposed to be romantic, you slontze! Potatoes weren’t romantic. I should have gone with a carrot.