I thought I was the world's shallowest book blogger. I thought I was alone. Then I caught up with a few of my best blogging pals a couple of weekends ago at the Walker event and we got onto the topic of boys. Well, to be more precise, hot YA authors. Hooray, I thought to myself, I'm not the only one who's prone to perving over hot Goodreads profile pictures, Lynsey from Narratively Speaking is as bad as me. Sarah from Feeling Fictional is as bad as me. Don't even get me started on Andy from The Pewter Wolf but, boy, he is definitely as bad as me. It must be an Essex thing.
And thus, we've spent a fair bit of time discussing those YA authors who are, shall we say, aesthetically pleasing. Do you know what? There are a lot of them. Enough, perhaps, for a Mr YA 2012 pageant. Definitely. But then I realised people would almost certainly look down on me for objectifying these fine figures of men.
Surely they should be judged on their wonderful use of language rather than their banging abs, you might say. Well, yes, certainly having a way with words is the most important box to tick. I'm just saying, it's nice to have a pretty face to gawp over every now and then. Does this make me shallow? And superficial? Probably. But then most of you are just as bad as me, I know it. Deep down you all have that one writer who makes you come over all peculiar (bet you wondered where I was going with that last sentence).
So, hottie YA authors, I salute you. Thank you for your cheekbones and wolfish good looks. Thank you for your gorgeous books but thank you for your lovely faces, too.
(NB. This isn't one of the YA hottie authors. This is actually Rob Lowe. I have a need to post pictures of him at regular intervals or I get sad)