The Lightning Thief by Rick Riordan
Might contain spoilers.
I adore this series. I must have read it four times before. I don’t quite recall the first time, but I bought my second copy of the book in Vancouver, presumably in 2006, because I thought I had lost the original while leaving India. I started reading it again this year because I wanted something familiar, engrossing, and comfortable to distract me from the health problems I was having at the time, and I wanted to revisit the series in any case. It did not disappoint. The Lightning Thief is just as excellent as I remember. Percy’s voice is still one of the most authentic I’ve ever encountered in the genre. Rick Riordan’s interpretation of Greek mythology is as fascinating and compelling (and at times repulsive or abhorrent, given the origin) as before.
The story is captivating, endlessly funny, and so… awesome. There’s a reason Percy’s world is one I return to over and over. It gave me a warm feeling to reacquaint myself with Grover, Annabeth, and Percy himself at the very beginning of their journey, and to see the stage set for all the great things to come—not that I mean to discount the the book’s ability to satisfy in and of itself, which it does effortlessly.