This might actually be a pretty controversial opinion on a site like this, but just hear me out.

If at all possible, I will watch the show or movie before reading the book. I know that's almost blasphemy in the larger world of reading enthusiasts, but I find the whole process way more enjoyable this way. Let me explain why:

Most people who read regularly will agree that the book is better than the show or movie at least 90% of the time. Some swear that the book is always better, and I'm not far off that. As such, if I read a book that I love and then find out that there's a movie coming out in the near future, my heart sinks. I'd love to be in this world a little more, but I know the movie is going to disappoint me. The book is always more in-depth, offering more scenes and character development. Plus, the actors never look like the characters I imagined, no matter how accurate casting is. A movie can be a beautiful love letter to the author's creation, but it never encompasses the whole worth of the art because writing is dependent on both the author's intentions and the reader's interpretations. A movie, on the other hand, is much more heavily guided by the screenwriter and director, leaving the audience little to no room for speculation. Knowing that, I very rarely feel motivated to spend my time and money attending a movie that will only leave me dissatisfied.

But consider the opposite! If you watch that movie, love it, and then find out it was based on a book, you can now dive even deeper into the world that has sucked you in. You'll learn more about your favorite characters, understand their thought processes better, and be able to refer to the scenes and faces you already have in your head from the movie. Your experience is enhanced, rather than detrimented!

Believe me, I've done it both ways. I watched the first season of The 100 on Netflix before I even knew there was a book series. Once I found out, I bought the books, blew through them in like three days, and was astounded by how different (and how much better) the books were. When the second season of the show was released, I jumped right on it, more excited than ever to see everything I had read put onto the screen in front of me. Except, after reading the books and knowing how the world should work with these characters I knew so well, seeing the seemingly random direction the plot of the show took drove me nuts. I couldn't make it through season two, and I've never gone back to the show. Which is really a shame, as I'm sure I would have loved it all if it had been finished before I picked up the books.

TL;DR: Movies make really good book trailers.

A man walks into a bar and sits down next to an already-tipsy guy who’s just received his drink. He watches in fascination as his neighbor drains the glass in three swallows before standing up and flying around the room a couple times. The stranger then lands, stumbling a bit, and walks calmly back to his seat, like nothing even happened. The first man blinks a few times, turns to the bartender, and says, “I’ll have what he’s having!”

So the bartender pours him a foaming mug of tap beer and slides it down the bar, where the man catches it and greedily slams it down his throat as quickly as he can, careful not to spill a drop. After he’s done, he runs out the door, climbs up to the top of the roof, and jumps, ready to fly through the night sky.

At which point, he promptly falls to his death.

Back in the bar, the bartender looks at the remaining patron and sighs. “Superman, you’re such a dick when you’re drunk.”

@Aanya

We suspend.

The quiet night is broken by a flash of Heaven’s light,

And we scramble.

Heroes fall untested as the dragon’s flame burns bright,

And we bicker.

Cupid’s arrow flies too high, blocking sense with greed,

And we drive the arrow deeper still, for love is all we need.

We trudge through myriad wonders,

We revel in disgust,

We sweep the floor but leave the rug,

Afraid to breathe the dust.

We lose ourselves in passion,

We lose ourselves to pain.

We lose each other more and more

In search of higher gain.

- - -

In the grass, an anthill grows.

Her soldiers file forth.

Amongst the blades, they find a gun

And know at once how much it’s worth.

He loves you. It’s obvious

By the way he buys you roses for

Every birthday, Easter, Valentine’s.

With the way he fawns over you, calls

Every night without fail, visits every

Week at least – that is love’s peak!

Devotion is love’s calling card,

And he leaves it on your step

Each night before he goes.

Devotion and a rose–

But your love has

Always favored

Carnations.

chaos is its own

Satisfaction for every child whose rival is disorder

there is One who cannot

Bear The Perfect Lines

And blinding symmetry of Fresh snow

and they must scrape a

stick through the mounds or relieve themselves (a dog but not perfect) to PROVE THEIR EXIS tence.

Nature

Who made Us

and the World

And The snow

Made a child to replicate her skill with patterns

~

Made a child to peel at those patterns like bark on a Tree

and reveal

Chaos is its own—

heronemistake

Oops!

—a child

[Sa-tis-facti-on}

Vanilla syrup – three pumps.

2% milk poured into a silver pitcher, steamed to 143 degrees after being aerated for three seconds.

Two shots of espresso in little, clinking glasses poured through the thin layer of foam into the bubbling milk.

A gentle cascade of caramel, first up and down seven times –

Left and right seven times –

Around in one circle –

And then another.

One perfect, Grande Caramel Macchiato, made exactly to Arnold’s specifi—

Shit. Arnold likes his drinks at the kids’ temperature.

Faster, now. Arnold has been waiting for his drink for three minutes, and there are now two frappuccinos in line to be made.

Vanilla syrup – four pumps.

Shit! It’s a Grande. Start again.

Vanilla syrup – three pumps.

2% milk poured into a silver pitcher, aerated for three seconds, steamed to 120 degrees because Arnold has the patience of a three-year-old and the pain tolerance to match. I avoid looking in the direction of the hand-off counter.

Two shots of—

Dammit! The shots finished before the milk and sat out too long.

Two new shots of espresso poured through the foam. There are now five drinks to be made after this, and the person taking orders has had to step over to the cold bar to start the fraps because I haven’t gotten one drink out in the past five minutes.

Caramel drizzle. Squeezing the bottle too hard, ease up. Add an extra crosshatch for the wait.

“Arnold, I have your caramel macchiato at a reduced temperature!” Don’t look; just set it down and start the next hot drink.

Venti Dirty Chai – easy.

Five pumps of chai, two shots of espresso.

2% milk aerated and—

“Excuse me?” Internal sigh. Turn. Smile.

“Oh, Arnold! What can I do for you?”

“My macchiato is too cold. Can you remake it?”