I wonder if it's possible to calmly read 20 pages a night. Either, if you are reading a book you hate, you'll barely force yourself to read at all, or, if you're reading an amazing, riveting book, you'll barely be able to put it down and will read when you really ought to be working on your Transfiguration homework.

The Dart League King, by Keith Lee Morris, is the latter.

I love books in which the characters seem real. Because he writes like each one thinks, and because of his uncanny ability to portray a gamut of human emotions--from lust to fear to guilt to anger to pride to embarrassment and everything else. I know no real people that resemble these people in any way, yet, nevertheless, these characters are real to me. I start to see traits of the characters in people I know--not the other way around. It's not a book in which you have a favorite character. You love and hate them all. They all disgust me, yet touch me. But still, I'm glad I don't know them in real life!