![]() ![]() ![]() I used to spend time playing around outside and somehow pretending I was part of the Animorphs (how do you adequately pretend you're morphing? Especially when you're like, 12 years old?), and I even did a couple book reports on them, despite the chagrin of my teachers. Unlike Jesus and Co., however, the Animorphs actually interested me. Some might argue that the concept- a gaggle of 13ish year olds stumble upon a dying alien who grants them the power to morph into any animal so that they can fight the impending invasion of a species of brain-infesting slugs, accept this offer, actually avoid death in the first 5 minutes while still doing their homework- is a stretch. They had everything I wanted at that point: quick, dramatic chapters printed in this super-cool space age font, badass fucking aliens (you got your giant centipede things, your huge warriors with bodies made of blades, weird blue centaur-things with stalk eyes and scorpion tails, and nasty-ass slugs that crawl into your ear and control your brain), a core of main characters that had token, unfailing identities, and some great romantic tension between them. ![]() ![]() If you're my age, a boy, and at least a little bit of a dork, you read these books. Rather than go through the 23482398 of these that I read as a wee one, we'll commemorate the one that got it all started. ![]()
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