I was all ready for a book review this week—until I actually read the book.
I debated on whether or not to write a review on it. I know, I know—a review is meant to be for the good, the bad and the ugly. But as a fellow writer, somehow, I could not bring myself to judge another’s work so harshly, or publicly. I know the blood, sweat and tears it takes to craft one of your literary babies, and I just couldn’t expose it as an ugly duckling.
Now, I can review meh books that I still enjoyed, because I can focus on the positive and not necessarily recommend it, but find something nice to say. I can still draft a fair critique that wouldn’t hurt the authors’ feelings. I’ve experienced less than perfect reviews myself, and felt those twinges of disappointment, but thankfully, those opinion-sharers all practiced kindness in their assessment.
So, I will just comment without calling the specific book out, because that voice within me still wants to speak about it.
I have to get it out of my system.
This book that shall not be named was the worst book I think I have ever read in my entire life. I was looking for a nice, juicy romance to warm up these cooler Cali nights, but alas, I was more than disappointed.
I was mostly disappointed in the writing itself. Now, every author has his or her own style, and I 100% respect that. The problem was, however, in the actual storytelling itself and the use of prose. Characters would repeat themselves—often verbatim, within the same page of dialogue. Once or twice, eh, no bigs. Repeating consistently throughout the book? Come on—ever heard of a thesaurus or a different way of responding? It made it so boring to read because it was repetitive instead of dynamic.
And the characters? I’d rather be single than date either one of the main characters with their lack of zest for life, yet who somehow found each other interesting.
Even when the one point in the book was setup for some suspense, it left this reader craving an adrenaline rush that never came. And the suspense itself? Predictable. I thought the hints were leading me to an unexpected shocker, but the shock actually was they knew whodunit all along and never wavered from being right about it.
This, my friends, was from a multi-time acclaimed New York Times best seller that left me flabbergasted, wondering who on earth is the editor and how did this get published?
I almost didn’t bother to finish it but was hoping that there would be an awesome twist that made it all worth it. Nope. Straight to the donation bin.
Sometimes, a story just doesn’t resonate with us, and that’s okay. We’re not everyone’s cup of tea or shot of whisky, and I’m sure there are those out there who aren’t drawn to my work. That’s the beauty of this world and the concept of creation. Beauty, enjoyment and preference are in the eyes and reading glasses of the beholders.
Now, if you are really all that curious about the title of the book, private message me and I’ll tell you it; though I’d rather if you ever came upon it, to read it and draw your own opinion about. To each his or her own, and although I personally did not enjoy the book, I wish the author nothing but continued success.
Onward to the next book….