Thank you Netgalley and Ballentine books for the eARC!
It should not be, this word [bondmaid], I thought. It shouldn't exist. Its meaning should be Thank you Netgalley and Ballentine books for the eARC!
It should not be, this word [bondmaid], I thought. It shouldn't exist. Its meaning should be obscure and unthinkable. It should be a relic, and yet it was as easily understood now as at any time in history. The joy of telling the story faded. Bondmaid, noun.: A slave girl. A bonded servant. Someone who is bound to serve till death.
In 1901, the word ‘Bondmaid’ was discovered missing from the Oxford English Dictionary. This is the story of the girl who stole it. Or so, the blurb reads. Blurb, noun: A short description of a book, a new product, etc., written by the people who have produced it, that is intended to attract your attention and make you want to buy it. By definition, the blurb did its job, because this, I wanted to read.
The Dictionary of Lost Words is the story of Esme, a precocious child who grows up around the Scriptorium (or Scrippy), whilst the Oxford Dictionary was being compiled. Precocious, adjective: (of a child) having developed particular abilities and ways of behaving at a much younger age than usual. Precocious, in books, can be endearing, and it can be annoying. In Esme's case, it was definitely the latter. Endearing, adjective: causing people to feel love. Annoying, adjective: making people feel slightly angry.
Esme's father, Da, is one of the lexicographers who helps compile words for the dictionary. A motherless child, she spends all of her free time with her father, at the Scriptorium, playing around, and collecting words that fall down. Words that she thinks nobody wants. It's wholesome and kind of sweet when she's a child, but her holier-than-thou habits get ever so slightly irritating. Lexicographer, noun: a person who writes and edits dictionaries. Irritating, adjective: annoying, especially because of something somebody continuously does or something that continuously happens.
Esme's life is tragic, and there is no question about that. However, I feel like it need not have been. Much of her turmoil did little to add to the plot of the story. I guess that the point of it was to show her strength, and her unwavering devotion to her words in spite of all of the bad. In a way, it worked. On the other hand, I just wanted her to be happy so she would stop being sanctimonious. Tragic, adjective: making you feel very sad, usually because somebody has died or suffered a lot. Turmoil, noun: a state of great worry in which everything is confused and nothing is certain. Unwavering, adjective: not changing or becoming weaker in any way. Devotion, noun: [uncountable, singular] devotion (to somebody/something) great love, care and support for somebody/something Sanctimonious, adjective: giving the impression that you feel you are better and more moral than other people.
Esme goes around collecting words that are not in the Dictionary, mostly because they aren't used by polite society. Common words. "But common isn't a prerequisite for the Dictionary." Words used by "[t]he poor. People who work at the Covered Market. Women. Which is why they're not written down and why they've been excluded. Though sometimes they have been written down, but they're still left out because they are not used in polite society." It's a fun and fascinating project, one that truly explores the class and gender divisions in society. And to be fair to Esme, she does quite a good job of it. However, and it's a big however, for some reason, it only goes to make her more self-righteous. Fascinating, adjective: extremely interesting and attractive Self-righteous, adjective: feeling or behaving as if what you say or do is always morally right, and other people are wrong.
Don't get me wrong, I thoroughly enjoyed the book. I loved Lizzie and Ditte and Gareth and Da. I just couldn't get behind Esme as the prodigal daughter. Having said that, I think the book does a truly excellent job of exploring the "what-if" behind what words were included in the dictionary and which ones were not. I love words, and I love how words mean different things to different people. This book does a really good job of capturing that. So the three stars? For two reasons: one, I didn't like Esme at all. And two, the book could have done with tighter editing.
Some words are more important than others--I learned this, growing up in the Scriptorium. But it took me a long time to understand why....more
I'm a virtual hoarder. I have no real emotional attachment to most of my material possessions, but I like to cling on to my the photos, tex3.5 stars.
I'm a virtual hoarder. I have no real emotional attachment to most of my material possessions, but I like to cling on to my the photos, texts, and emails, and anything else I can save on my phone. I almost never have space to save new things on my phone, and I pay Google every month so I have their 100GB plan. Because I'm a virtual hoarder. I like the nostalgia of what was, and sometimes, of what could have been. What I'm trying to say here, is that in my own way, I get a little of where Amy is coming from.
We form attachments with a particular memory, or a particular moment in time, a particular point in space, and we try our best to not let go. Whether with tangible objects that fill up our homes, or intangible photos that fill up our phones, or even just memories, is up to us. Amy Ashton had everything (or some version of it, at least) one minute, and the next minute, nothing at all. Now, at least she has her bottles and birds, potted plants and lighters, cookbooks and slow cookers. And, she has the memories associated with them.
Navigating life, however, is more difficult than navigating a house full of cartons, and this is something Amy realises she has to do, as some semblance of a relationship begins developing with her new neighbours. Amy Ashton is the story of the titular character's past and present relationships, and it's got a lot of heart, some laughter, and some tears.
I read Amy Ashton because I was told it was in the vein of Eleanor Oliphant and Evvie Drake, two books I absolutely adored. I liked Amy Ashton just as much till about the last 10% of it. The ending, to me, felt both rushed and unnecessary, a little bit like the last piece in a jigsaw puzzle that just doesn't fit right.
Eleanor Ray is an excellent writer and for the most part, a deft storyteller. I finished it almost entirely in a single sitting, which I like in a book. I appreciated that the book was not longer than it should have been; in fact, I would not have been mad if I'd had another 50 pages to read. I'm also a fan of any kind of non-linear storytelling, when it is done well, and in this case, it really works. On the other hand, I was mostly underwhelmed by the supporting characters that are a part of Amy's present, as opposed to those from her past. Maybe this was intentional, seeing as Amy was mostly living in her past, maybe it just happened to read that way.
I am likely to add more details to the review closer to publication. Thanks to Netgalley and Simon & Schuster for the eARC!...more
You guys, do you know how long it's been since I read one of these on purpose? What is "one of these", you say? Why, I'm so glad you asked. "These" arYou guys, do you know how long it's been since I read one of these on purpose? What is "one of these", you say? Why, I'm so glad you asked. "These" are books I get for free from this website called BookBub. They're usually of the sultry, smutty, romantic variety, and how bad the book is can be determined by how bad the cover is. Which is why I expected this book to be at least two stars, but alas. Unlike many of the other one star books I've read over the past year or so, these, I get into knowing how bad they are. It's just...entertaining. I've read a *lot* of heart-wrenching, heavy-duty books this year, and I wanted to read something I knew I would hate. In that aspect, this did not disappoint, though it came quite close.
The first twenty minutes or around as many pages of this book, were fun. No, seriously, if I had to evaluate this book just based on those pages, I would've given it a minimum of four stars. But the moment our protagonists got together, it was all downhill. Because their relationship became all about the "down" part. See, here's the thing I don't get about this book. There's this whole build up around the sex. So there's this three date rule that they set, before which they cannot have sex. Which, in general, is okay, acceptable. But. In this book, there is this sort of anticipation from the first date itself. Which, again is okay, but these two kids spend all their time just talking about or doing things precursory to the forthcoming sex. I mean, just do it already! If your fear is that he will leave you if you sleep together on the first date, what is the guarantee that he won't after you sleep together on the third date? THERE IS NO LOGIC TO THIS ARRANGEMENT! Especially, you know, if you voice your concerns that that is why you're waiting for the third date.
I can't believe I'm saying this, but there is way too much sex in this book. There is talk of it from the moment Braden (is it?) and Gabrielle see each other outside the confines of their work environment. And the act itself doesn't stop post their third date. Seriously, these so called, professional, mid-twenty year old lawyers cannot stop humping like rabbits. How they get any work done is beyond me. How they manage to keep their jobs is also a mystery, because between all that hot sex, I can't quite see where they find the time to actually do anything else. There is such a thing as too much sex, and this book is testament to that. No, seriously, that's the remaining 80% of the story, and frankly, it got tedious as anything. There was no more of the smart banter, rather, more talks about Gabrielle's loud orgasms. The "thrilling" or "suspense" aspect of it was irritatingly unnecessary and stupid. There's also a sex party/orgy in the end which could've been hilarious, but it fell more on the ridiculous spectrum, and not in a nice way.
It honestly had me wishing it would end soon, because I couldn't handle the level of cheesiness anymore. Or the sex. I couldn't handle that either. The one star is merely for the beginning of the book, because I wholeheartedly give the rest of it zero stars. This is one of my PSA reviews, you guys, don't read this book....more
I'm busy till the weekend, and it's much easier to read shitty books in class. It's also a lot easier to point out why a book sucks, than to point outI'm busy till the weekend, and it's much easier to read shitty books in class. It's also a lot easier to point out why a book sucks, than to point out why it doesn't. I don't know; I think books I like warrant more time to write more cohesive reviews than the crap I don't like. So sue me.
Ugh. Plain Jane meets the most devilishly handsome man she's ever met, and he saves her from a bunch of...bad things, and they live happily ever after. Well, I hadn't read that before. Just another sloppily put together romance novel about two empty shells of characters who think there's really not much to life other than looks. I kid you not, because both the MCs in this clusterfuck seem to legitimately think so.
Caroline is your average brown-haired chemist; she's just an average girl from an average family. And whatshisname is well, ripped as a motherfucker and "obviously" hot. And yet, they still have time for some over-the-top insta love BS. I'm a very frequent flier, and I've sat next to some incredibly good-looking men on the flight. I've had idle conversation with most of them, but never, during the course of such conversation felt the urge to surrender my body, soul, and undying love and loyalty to them. Then again, if my life were a romantic story in the sense of this book and its likes, I wouldn't be reviewing shitty books at midnight.
Unrealistic as the books in this genre I've read so far have been, this one takes all the cakes. Chemist and Navy Seal thwart terrorist masterminds. Now that would be something. Not. Both the MCs have a very, er, childish line of thought. Case in point, the heroine thinks that It couldn’t be good to be trapped in a plane thousands of feet above the ground with people hell-bent on causing trouble. Like, I'm so awed by her quick thinking. And it is her that the people in this book have to rely on for saving them. Also, the only point of making her a chemist was so that she cold sniff out whatever it was the terrorists were using to control their passengers. Clearly, subtlety isn't the author's strong suit.
As Navy Seals save the day and Caroline gets a mini orgasm thinking about the fact that she incapacitated a "freaking terrorist" by tripping him, I'm left wondering why I still haven't considered writing such utter shit as an alternate career option. Even as people are being rescued after the event of the terrorist attack, Caroline's first ridiculous thought is that all the other passengers are attractive, and she's ugly. Even the shallowest of persons I know wouldn't think that. She also thinks it's a good idea to lie to the authorities about the events surrounding a terrorist attack. She gets kidnapped and tortured and all that, and I still don't think she was punished enough. Getting into more details would only be painful for both you and me, reader.
If I had a penny for every time the word blush was mentioned in this, er, badly written writing assignment, I'd be seventeen pennies richer. I'm too tired to convert that to rupees, but that was never the point of this statement. And yet, even my terrible joke fares so much better than the feeble attempts at humour made by the author. Do I have to make the point about subtlety again? If I have to hear the word drug being used instead of dragged again, so help me god. I yelled at a classmate for writing "common" instead of "come on" today, so know that I take this seriously. ...more
It's evident that I have a terrible track record with ARCs. It makes me kind of sad, because I kind of like the people who wrote these books, at leastIt's evident that I have a terrible track record with ARCs. It makes me kind of sad, because I kind of like the people who wrote these books, at least from the initial communication that we have before I write my scathing reviews. But no, this one didn't do it for me either. Seriously, appalling grammar, atrocious editing. Also, do not use colloquial terms in a book unless said colloquialism has been used as a part of conversation. Much like the other books I've reviewed that have been written by Indian authors, Karma isn't such a bitch is chock-full of purple prose, bad grammar, and just plain bad writing. The sentence structure is all over the place; seriously, if you cannot understand how complex and compound sentences are formed, stick to simple sentences. They're called simple for a reason, and no one can go wrong with a simple Subject verb object format. Also, dear lord, brush up on tenses. Simple is not the only form that tenses take! Please. I beg of you. You know what, I'll start taking online grammar lessons for people. For free. Just get your prepositions right. Also get your tense right. And learn to distinguish the voices. And to frame proper sentences. Bad grammar drives me insane. Also, mother of god, "anyways" is not a word.
Bad grammar aside, I couldn't bring myself to like this book. It was kind of like the Hum Saath Saath Hai of books (for those who haven't seen this movie, it is the story of a small misfortune that befalls an otherwise impossibly prosperous family, only for them to overcome it in a few minutes, so that everything is all perfect again. Seriously, everyone in this family is rich, good-looking, successful, and has a heart of gold). Krish, the protagonist of the book has had a perfect life for like the initial thirty years of his life. I'm not exaggerating when I say perfect. Then, I mean, as luck would have it, his perfect life falls apart, and he tries to off himself. I mean, he has to struggle for the first time in his life, and he goes, "hey, my life is fucking perfect, I can't deal with the regular life that these plebs lead, so Imma kill myself". I'm so sorry that one little blimp in your life, Krish. Krish also literally treats other people like plebs. He keeps ordering the old caretaker about, and while I get that such is the job of a caretaker, get of your lazy ass, Krish. Cannot deal with perfect protagonists. *flies into a rage* But then, because he's Krish, and luck favours him and only him, he meets Gandalf the white this Baba who leads him onto the path of spirituality and "right" living.
While such a story may appeal to some people, I am not one of them. I'll tell you why. First of all, I'm not a grammar Nazi, I'm grammar Hitler. Nothing annoys me more than bad grammar, and I proudly admit that I am one of those thundercunts that ends even their texts with a period. So right off the bat, reading improperly structured sentences that weren't aware of what tense they belonged in made me ragey. Secondly, I need relatable characters. A character that has a life as perfect as (other) people dream of is not a relatable character. His only flaw is that he doesn't like his name. Give me a fucking break. His wife is the perfect wife; homely and all that. I don't like perfect wives; especially those that appear to have been groomed to appear so. I don't like books where everything comes together in the end, like a neatly tied up package. I'm sorry, I'm a cynic like that. Also, I am an agnostic theist. I'm neither religious, nor spiritual. I don't believe in godmen or omens in the least. I believe in science, and that science offers explanations to the things that we encounter and experience. This book, however, completely disregards science and logic, because if you have spirituality, who needs logic? A "sage" talks about sins committed in the previous life and about how they will affect our present life. There's also a lot of baloney about "souls" that I cannot risk delving into, for the sake of my sanity. But basically, I'm expected to believe that even if I do everything right in life, I could still get screwed over because of something my soul did in the past. Thanks, but no thanks. I am not a fan of bullshit. Pls. stahp. *shakes her head*
This one really wasn't for me, yo. Interestingly, I couldn't think of a single person I know here, on GR, that I could recommend this to. ...more
Meh. Alright, alright. So far, I haven't really had the best experience with ARCs. And you know what, writers, I'm sorry. I am. I knowThis is an ARC.
Meh. Alright, alright. So far, I haven't really had the best experience with ARCs. And you know what, writers, I'm sorry. I am. I know it is daunting work to write your own book, and here I sit, criticising said hard work. It's just, you all should know that I am an overly critical person. Also that I have high standards for literature.
Now, without further ado, let's get started on this. It's not that it was bad, it just wasn't good. I felt like the book started from nowhere. For about the initial 30% or so of the book, I was just so goddamned clueless; I mean, I knew that Derik had to save the mushroom, and that he was other worldly, but that's about it. I honestly spent that time hoping for the love of god that I'd get the mushroom in the end, if you know what I mean. And then, thankfully, the book did pick up, though I had to get to about halfway through the story before finally learning of the point of it all. Now, I'm a fairly straightforward person; at least I think I am. My point is, beating around the bush pisses me off. Had I known some of the history behind it all in the initial 10 or so percent, I would've enjoyed it more. Once the story picked up, though, I did come to enjoy myself. I also grew to like Lara's character, though I kept chiding her for being too comfortable (?) in her life to want change. Derik himself was not a character I connected to; I am not a pacifist. I must say, though, the ending was satisfactory, kinda made it worth it. (If you're like my brother and think that even saying that I liked the ending counts as a spoiler, then screw you)
Further, I think it's pertinent to mention here, that the Lord of the Rings is my favourite book. Ever. Of all times. I love that book more than life itself, and god knows my copy has suffered more than it should have. Now because of this, I hold fantasy books to exceptionally high standards. Another unfortunate by-product of this is also that whenever I pick up a fantasy novel, in my head, I start comparing it to the LoTR. So here, Derik was Frodo, and the 'shroom was the One Ring. Didn't help that the word "ring" and its er...sanctity was emphasised on more than once. Also, olifants. Probably doesn't help that I think alchemy is baloney and that I absolutely love cats. Adore them.
Few as they were, there were some grammar and spelling errors, and we've established how I feel about those. "Shear" and "sheer" mean completely different things; as do "doughty" and "doughy", "bare" and "bear"...you catch my drift. I also had a problem with the sentence structure in some places; there were unnecessary commas, and some things plain made no sense to me at all, though their meanings I was able to derive from context. Also, the prose was laden with unnecessary words, and seriously dear authors, consider this a PSA, don't use words like "miasma" and "rose like a glyph" out of context. I dislike callous display of vocabulary. Too much to handle.
My advice? Keep it simple. Also, let there be some flow to the story. Don't get to the point smack in the middle of the book; I mean, I spent the first 30% bored because I couldn't see the point of it all, and the last 30% of it also bored, because once I saw the point, I knew how it would end. ...more
Honestly, I rather enjoyed this one and was originally going for three stars, but Ms. Anderson doesn't know the difference between 'poured' and 'poredHonestly, I rather enjoyed this one and was originally going for three stars, but Ms. Anderson doesn't know the difference between 'poured' and 'pored', and brutal as you may call me for this, that's where the one star goes. ...more
This 'book' was laughably bad, and excruciatingly descriptive. Especially the sex scenes. They were so badly written, well, some of it was actually a This 'book' was laughably bad, and excruciatingly descriptive. Especially the sex scenes. They were so badly written, well, some of it was actually a little disgusting, like The swell of my desire matched his and I coated him with my own thick juices, only spurring him on more. Spare me these details, please.
Okay, so a while back, my boyfriend and I had this conversation about why being "physically attractive" is so important, seeing as neither of us is, conventionally, and going by that aspect alone, that we were both doomed to die alone. Thing is, oh NA writers of the world, being physically attractive doesn't matter. The intelligence, integrity, and character of the person does. Ted Bundy was considered conventionally attractive, just so you know. So was Jeffrey Dahmer. Bundy killed more than thirty women, and Dahmer killed seventeen men. Still find them attractive? But I digress. My point is, stop harping on about how attractive your characters are! Jeez! "Angelic face", "broad shoulder and chest", "deep blue eyes", "delicious green eyes"... mention it once, and it's okay, mention it a hundred times, and face my wrath forever. Why is it so motherfucking important that they be so goddamned attractive? Why? Why? Why? He's an ex-con, for godssake! I mean, yeah, he was framed or something, but if I had an ex who'd spent close to fifteen years in prison, I wouldn't surrender my body and soul to him within the first three days that he got exonerated! Why, you ask? Because that's what sensible people do.
If I have to hear the words 'brother', 'cock', and 'claim' again, so help me god! Like I got the point, your biker club is like family, you think with your penis, and you're a misogynistic douchebag who thinks he owns his women. Do not keep emphasising it on every page, dammit! And the sex scenes, oh, you wanna know about the sex scenes?
He reared up once, then plundered me with his cock. Tell me you didn't burst out laughing at this? If you didn't, it's no problem. There's plenty more where that came from.
The rational part of my brain realized maybe we should have used protection. But oh, I didn’t want to. I wanted to feel every drop of Dex’s desire. And I was covered. I just...well, I had so many thoughts about this. Starting with, how in the name of flipping bollocks can you not have used protection?! Also, that is too descriptive to come across as sexy, or even not gross.
He spurted deep and hot inside me and somehow, I found a way to spread myself even wider to take it all in. I wanted it. All of it. I wanted him like this forever, it seemed. I would have let him do almost anything to me. I mean, how does one get so descriptive during sex? I need to learn this from these authors! Also, Dex is capable of having a go at it mere seconds after having ejaculated. And I mean literally seconds! Ummm, the human body does not work like that, especially if you're forty. That's biology for you.
I could go on, but there's so much more to talk about. Like how Dex thinks he owns Ava and that she shouldn't have been allowed to make her own decisions in his absence. And, I mean, it's not like the girl decided to shoot heroin, she enlisted in the army, because, you know, that's what people do! But no, the ex-con, who disappeared from her life because he got arrested when he flew into a testosterone-fuelled rage thinks it's okay to come back into Ava's life and dictate what she should or should not have done some ten years ago. Not only that, he yells at his "brother" Sly for not stopping her! I mean, you asshole, it was her decision! Thankfully, Sly's not as much as a douche, so he responds with a refreshingly sensible line: “...And what she did mattered. It wasn’t for me to take that away from her. And it’s not for you either. If you don’t see that, you probably don’t even deserve her.”
Dex still likes strutting about the place like he owns Ava's ass, though. Because, even though I’d given up my claim on her long ago, she was still his.
This girl was different and I meant to make her mine. What is that even supposed to mean? Dear god, can someone tell me what it means to make someone 'yours'?
I trained her body for mine all those years ago and it seemed we hadn’t lost a step. Umm? Excuse me? What?
She may have had doubts but I didn’t. Ava was mine. I would give her space, but she belonged with me. Again with the 'belonging', man?
Her body belonged to me now and forever. I think I should just stop questioning this.
Alright, so Ava, though was infinitesimally more likable than Dex, she was, well, she was kind of daft. She usually says things like "I usually don't do action X, but person Y has Z superpower, so they can convince me to do X". Like how she never has sex in the backseat of a car, but because she and Charlie were horny, they had sex in the backseat of a car. Or like how she usually didn't answer questions, but Joleen had the interrogation powers of a CIA agent, so she answered her questions. You get my drift. It's no wonder that Dex thinks he can order her about, she gives in too easily. She's lived most of her adult life under the impression that she belongs to a man who probably had no chance of getting out of prison. She thinks such gems as my body’s need to be claimed by him almost scared me. And He could make me a slave to it if I let him. And oh, I wanted to let him. And my favourite, The club still thought of me as Dex’s woman and so did he.
He’d claimed me all those years ago. My body was sure, even if my head spun with doubt. All this claiming and belonging is making my head spin.
Ava also considers herself competent to give others advice on their love and sex lives even though her own is in a complete shambles. The point where it was absolutely cemented in my head that she was stupid was when this happened: “That makes me feel so old.” “How do you think it makes me feel?” “Forty isn’t old, Dex. But she’s good?” I mean, she's a good 6 years younger to him, and she can feel old, but he at forty cannot? Wut?
Oh, also, there's this character, Dr. Brancheau, who's mentioned about 5 times in the book, and his first name which has been mentioned twice, is different each time. Dear god, what were your editors doing, dear lady?
But tell you what, I had a ball making snarky Kindle notes on this one, so it wasn't all for nothing!
No. Non. Nein. Naaaaaah. Nahi. Illa. Nope. Not happening. Never.
Oh, where, oh where do I start? I wouldn't be satisfied giving this book fucking zeroNo. Non. Nein. Naaaaaah. Nahi. Illa. Nope. Not happening. Never.
Oh, where, oh where do I start? I wouldn't be satisfied giving this book fucking zero stars! So, one of them ridiculously hot mercenary guys, black ops or whatever has to investigate this feisty, charming, and of course utterly and completely gorgeous woman who owns an antique shop or something, because her brother, who is a pilot, is supposedly a mole in the DEA, selling drugs to teens that cause hallucinations, and ultimately death. Yeah, yeah, the plot sounds like a complex motherfucker; the only fucking that happened, though, of course, other than inside my mind, was between Josh and Trish.
So Trish is this recovering alcoholic, who's also the owner of some antique store. She's some self-proclaimed expert in 15th century history or something, who's participating in some reality show about antiques, and winning the show would propel her shop to the pinnacle of antique shops or something. She needs this expert on antiques as a celebrity guest to win the show. I mean, what? At this point, I stopped taking the book seriously. She's made to attend benefits and all that, and who should volunteer as her date but supa stuuuuuud Josh? It gets worse. So they just met that day, and by the end of the day, they've already made out a few times, he's had like 6 erections, and they've come about ye close to doin' the naughty. And this chick has a stalker mind you, and she's sworn off guys, because the last one she was with beat the hell out her. Yeah, super smart, that one, I tell you. Because if you have blond hair, and a chiseled chin, and "cobalt-blue" eyes (duh!), who cares? Go ride that all you want, love. Trish is so, so dumb! She's dumber than a pile of rocks. She has no idea what she's doing, and yet she refuses to ask for help, because she wants to be mature and grown up. Did no one tell you, love? Part of growing up is knowing when you should accept defeat and ask for help. She's also the most naive, trusting buffoon. She'd trust freaking Pennywise the Dancing Clown if he came up to her and said, "hey, I'm harmless". Yeah, no hope for that one. She's the kind of character that dies in a horror movie because she is, for lack of a better word, a dumb fuck. It's like she sold her brain for her sobriety or something. Her stupidity makes my head hurt.
Josh is no less; it's worse because he's an operative or agent or something, but all he cares about are, in this order, Fucking Trish, extracting revenge on the guy that killed his ex-fuck buddy, fucking Trish, discovering who the mole is, cracking stupid dialogues, fucking Trish, and oh, did I mention, fucking Trish. The puddle of water in the bathroom is less shallow than this one. All he needed was to see a hint of her pink panties, and he was as horny as a wild animal in heat. For every other minute in the book from then on. Just take a cold shower, dude. He's supposed to appear like this conflicted, complex person, but quite frankly, he just comes across as a very "attractive" gorilla.
There's this other bunch of secondary characters. Oh, wait, did I say bunch? I meant army. There's Trish's brother Zane, his wife Angel, Trish's bfffffffff Heidi, Trish's other "friend" Leanne, some dude called Gunter, some chick called Olivia, her competitor Xavier (female Xavier), her trainer Arnie, some dude called Bob, a couple of detectives, Josh's adoptive parents, his "uncle" Ty, his bffffff and boss Sabrina, Sabrina's ex-lover Gabe, another bfffffff Dingo, random black ops agents Ryder and Ferrari, his ex lover Chelsea, some dead dude named Colbert, CIA slime Rikker, Senator Witherspoon, Senator Dixon, Jesus Christ, Abraham Lincoln, Mahatma Gandhi, and the Orc army from Lord of the Rings. By the time I figured out the relationship between these empty shells, the book was freaking over. And it wasn't a short read, mind you, nay, this was 400 motherfucking pages long. Spare me the crap.
There's basically random scenes of investigation, stake-outs, characters trying hard as they can to be badass, and lots of horniness and sex. Everyone in Miami is a horndog, folks! Or so this book says. Also, it was about as predictable as the end of Cinderella. There was no OMG factor. Except, when they almost had sex the day they met. And not in a one-night stand kinda way, no, in a I'm giving you part of my soul kinda way. Also, the story just loses its way in the middle. Things stop making sense, and not in a Metamorphosis kinda way, but in a "I just fell asleep while typing" kinda way. The coincidences in this book are ridiculous. Of course, even trained specialists who're supposed to be so smart, they're the most elite of the elite don't get. Can I be an agent here? I'm actually smart.
Things I learnt after reading this book: Even published writers don't get the difference between 'raise' and 'rise'. A phoenix rises from its ashes, Ms. Love, it does not raise from its ashes. Also that I really hope Ms. Love didn't name her kids the way she named her characters. What the fuck kind of name is Dingo, yo? A Dingo is a species of dog, not what you name a human.
It's like Castle, but set in San Francisco. Very run of the mill, very predictable, but still not bad. It's like Castle, but set in San Francisco. Very run of the mill, very predictable, but still not bad. ...more
I am not a fan of spiritual books usually, but I have to admit, Weir has style. He's a stellar writer, and his descriptions are simply fabulous. The EI am not a fan of spiritual books usually, but I have to admit, Weir has style. He's a stellar writer, and his descriptions are simply fabulous. The Egg is, from the looks of it, a satire on organised religion, while at the same time, being a book that drives you to think about "humanity". I think. Or he could just be talking about an egg and I totally missed the point. Either way, find this short story here.
If you want a book that tells you you need to change every aspect of yourself to make a person fall in love with you, read this shit. Mona "my self esIf you want a book that tells you you need to change every aspect of yourself to make a person fall in love with you, read this shit. Mona "my self esteem is so low, I could be renamed rock-bottom" Warren has been secretly planning her wedding to Adam "I'm that perfect pastel upper middle class guy that you want to bring to your parents" Zielger. But then she falls for her er, "coach" Mike "the ultimate chauvinist" Dougherty, though he likes calling himself "The Dog". So basically, Rock Bottom quits her boring job to, er, reinvent herself, which in her case is basically changing everything about her face, body, and soul to be the perfect wife for Perfect. She hires Ultimate Chauvinist to help her become the "perfect woman that all men want", and he in turn hires his stripper sister to help her with the "looking good" aspect of it. What follows is a series of er, misadventures, for lack of a better term, where she tries to woo Perfect. Needless to say, she ends up with Ultimate Chauvinist, because why the fuck not. The only voice of reason here is Rock Bottom's best friend Greta "I'm a closet lesbian" something or the other, who gives Rock Bottom sane advice like not changing just so a boy can like you, but of course, she's stupid and naive and innocuous, so she really doesn't listen much. I liked Closet right up until she confessed her feelings for Rock Bottom, and fessed up about leaving a perfectly wonderful woman who actually cared for her just so she could get with Rock Bottom. Why? Just why?
Just, save yourself the trouble of reading this and watch The Ugly Truth. They tell literally the same stupid story, but at least in that, you have the glorious pleasure of ogling at Gerard Butler. ...more
Reading books like this always makes me question how delusional writers are. And I'm not talking dragons here, no siree! I'm talking about those wondeReading books like this always makes me question how delusional writers are. And I'm not talking dragons here, no siree! I'm talking about those wonderful women who bless us with instalove. Guess what, fuck you all!
Meet McKenna (sorry, Kenna) something, who's a lawyer on the run, because she stumbled upon some sex ring involving her ex-boyfriend and other powerful people in New York. Or something like that. No, really, this sex ring scandal comes up about 80% in. Till you reach that point in the book, you're treated to the sexcapades of Kenna and her instaboy Will, who literally fell in love with each other the day they met. And I literally mean literally. They had this one fun week in New York some seventeen years ago, and they remember every single detail of it, and realise that they're soul-mates or whatever. It's this kind of shit that makes me question my life choices. They proclaim their love for each other about halfway through the book, and they've known each other for a few days, or maybe weeks now.
There's serious brand-dropping in this one as well, Prada, Armani, and a lot of Ralph Lauren. Rachel Green called. She wants her job back. *rolls eyes* But then again, that's not the worst of it. It never is, with such books, is it? So Kenna is a stranger in the quaint little town of Keeneston, Kentucky, and yet, within the first few hours of her arrival, she's experienced "homely cooking", "the friendliest people", and a "fatherly hug". Oh wait, let's not forget the kiss of true love. Look, I get that small towns have this charm about them, and basically everyone knows everyone, but the woman was a stranger for the love of all that is holy! And people, random people she just fucking met are looking to court her and help her get a job. Excuse me if I think that's a bit too much!
There's a limit to how far you can go with a storyline, and Ms. Brooks doesn't know the meaning of "limit", or "storyline"; because in this we have a Middle Eastern Prince, and FBI agent, a corrupt senator, his promiscuous daughter who's the hero's ex-bitch, her new boyfriend who happened to be Kenna's ex-sleazeball, and even references to the Queen of England. We have fancy balls (get your mind out of the gutter, not those balls), red carpet appearances, and a trip to the moon. Okay, not the moon, but you catch my drift. It's like Ms. Brooks couldn't decide what she wanted to write about, so she went ahead and wrote down everything that was in her damn head, and the result was this masterpiece.
Also, I don't know it it's just me, but I felt like she'd ripped off Kinsella's Undomestic Goddess, and combined it with elements from Pretty Woman, Castle, and freaking Lawrence of my labia. Avoid this at all costs. ...more
Disclaimer: I'm back to my habit of reading shitty books again, because they're easy to finish betwixt Transfer of Property and Criminology.
So once aDisclaimer: I'm back to my habit of reading shitty books again, because they're easy to finish betwixt Transfer of Property and Criminology.
So once again I find myself disliking a rather well-liked, er, book. I cannot understand why some female writers find it so difficult to write something from the perspective of the male character. It's been done before; in fact, many writers continue to do it. I read about the first sixty-five percent of the clusterfuck pretty diligently, and after that, I just skimmed.
First of all, this is 425 pages long. 425 pages of single motherhood, and sex, and some stupid FBI investigation, and so much sweet tea (which I believe is iced tea?), I'll probably throw up if I'm given tea anytime soon. The characters are all narcissistic, self-absorbed, and impossibly attractive if they're the good guys, and horrible, fat, and ugly if they're the bad guys, because this is definitely the kind of thing that we should be teaching kids today. To judge people based on how they look. The amount of Southern "charm" in this book is greater than what you get in New Orleans on Mardi Gars. Oh, wait...
As a big fan of the Southern accent, and Matthew McConaughey, I like the South. Kind of. I know for a fact that not everyone there is a religious nut, or well, a perfect gentleman. But as a Southerner herself, Ms. Calvert portrays Southerners so stereotypically, it makes me sad. So Southern gentlemen are well-bred, college-educated, astonishingly good-looking, and don't let their ladies take taxi-cabs, because why the fuck not. They say things like “What kind of past would you hold against me?”... “A reputation of being extremely friendly with an overabundance of gentlemen.” Especially so when they have a habit of humping everything that's hot, tall, and leggy. Because men can sleep around, and women cannot. You know, he's a stud and she's a slut. It also harps on the whole "If you ain't Southern, you nothin'" bullshit, because Those (Northern) women seemed to have lost their feminine edge in the rough city— the one tool all females possess to render a man helpless. Because if you aren't feminine and vulnerable, your boyfriend will feel insecure. Teaches you a lot about "manhood", doesn't it? Southern ladies, on the other hand have to dress classy, complete with a string of pearls, because they're all that rich. They may be amazing, and brilliant, and clever, but still, for the sake of their roots, they need to let their Southern men win. Can we also for one second talk about how Sam panics because they did the deed on the beach in view of god (sorry, God)? Honey, god doesn't really care where you have sex. I'm pretty sure the bedroom and the beach are the same to him. Provided he can see you have sex, of course. This is probably why I can never be a lady. Ah, well, their loss.
The amount of self promotion these characters do is laughably pathetic. I mean come on, Mac or whoever you are, you do not need to harp about your family name, and/or extensive Ivy League education at every point. Shut the fuck up. Please. "As a seasoned agent for the FBI in the white-collar crime division, I had the unique distinction of being a Harvard-educated Southern gentleman, who incidentally packed heat. I had a big brain, a big gun, and a big dose of charm I commanded as the occasion dictated. It had always served me well." I had the displeasure of reading this gem on literally the second page of this book. What the fuck, even? *rolls eyes* Sam, our Princeton-educated business professional, on the other hand has other things to brag about. Like "...a pale lavender Valentino silk dress with tiny straps, which accentuated my muscular arms and small waist. I might be a mother, but I still wore a size two. The fact that she also had an Ivy League education is mentioned once. Once in 425 pages.
Also, one of the main reasons I had a problem with the male POV was that Mac liked describing everything to a painful detail. Men who are literally seconds away from getting laid do not think about their black boxer briefs. Or about the number of steps that you have to climb to get to their four poster bed. Or for that matter, even about the four poster bed. They definitely do not refer to her clitoris as her sex. No, really, I even checked with my boyfriend.
My biggest problem, however, was with the bareback riding. And I'm not talking about horses here. So the first time Mac and Sam have sex, days after they've met, Mac asks Sam to trust him, and then proceeds to enter her unsheathed. Because he'd had mumps before, and he's sterile. Because the only thing condoms protect you against are unwanted pregnancies, right? And then, post-coitus, they discuss about his sterility, and that he's "clean". Fuck you, Ms. Calvert for taking unprotected sex so lightly.
Also, the amount of product placement in this book was just too much to handle. Armani, Louboutin, Valentino, Rolex, Grey Goose, Breitling, Collins, Ray Ban, Aston Martin, Range Rover...do you need me to name more? I mean, come on! First of all, how does an FBI agent afford Armani, a Rolex, and a Breitling? Also, how does a woman who's been unemployed for three years, and is a single mother of three year old afford Louboutins? The nation wants to know. My second, and more important point being did these companies pay Ms. Calvert? I mean, with the number of times they've been mentioned, I was kind of hoping they actually did.
Also, for the love of god, Ms. Calvert, I drug myself out of bed is not a thing. The past tense of drag is dragged, not drug. Cocaine is a drug.
Maybe I liked this because it was more suspense than romance, maybe I liked it because Toni wasn't waxing about how well-defined his muscles were everMaybe I liked this because it was more suspense than romance, maybe I liked it because Toni wasn't waxing about how well-defined his muscles were every few lines. Maybe I liked it because there were no penis metaphors, maybe I liked it because there was no "clenching of her sex".
It did feature certain tropes that one does commonly come across in books like this, like instalove, and sure there were some super cheesy moments, but somehow, the author in this takes the 'suspense' in 'romantic suspense' seriously. The plot read more like a crime procedural (which I watch more than I should) than a book of this genre. This, I would recommend. Go for it....more
If there's one thing Neil Gaiman has taught me, it's that one can be original with other people's ideas as well. So let's talk about A Study in EmeralIf there's one thing Neil Gaiman has taught me, it's that one can be original with other people's ideas as well. So let's talk about A Study in Emerald, a fantastic amalgamation of Sherlock Holmes and the Cthulhu Mythos; an amalgamation of the stoic, dry writing style of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and the wild, beautiful prose of H. P. Lovecraft. If anyone can find any semblance of balance between the two and manage to execute it, it is Gaiman.
In the alternate Victorian (they take Victoria very seriously in this one, they do) universe of A Study in Emerald, Gaiman seamlessly combines the fine detective skills of Sherlock Holmes with the lore of the Great Ones, in a world where humanity is ruled by the latter. Interspersed with creative advertisements, all referring to literary masterpieces themselves, this Hugo Award winning short story is presented as creatively as it is written, and it is, indeed the perfect combination of "wonderful" and "weird". Oh, it's also a mere 9 pages by the way, so go for it. ...more
This was actually not bad, despite its corny title. Emma wasn't an asinine idiot, and Jason wasn't an insensitive prick. The story line was as cheesy This was actually not bad, despite its corny title. Emma wasn't an asinine idiot, and Jason wasn't an insensitive prick. The story line was as cheesy as the title itself, and I cringed each time I read the words "Buttermilk Falls", but it was kind of cute, but not in an ersatz, overdone manner. Not bad, Ms. Neeley. Not bad at all....more
Oh, my dear god. Holy mother of god. Motherfucking what the fucking hell did I just read? :O I'm sorry to say this, but Shae Buggs bugs the motherfuckiOh, my dear god. Holy mother of god. Motherfucking what the fucking hell did I just read? :O I'm sorry to say this, but Shae Buggs bugs the motherfucking hell out of me. She has absolutely no sense of grammar. At all. To say that the tense is all over the place would be an understatement. It was so bad, it literally gave me a headache. And she's a bestselling author? What? How? Did she make her family and friends buy her books in bulk? I'm sorry I'm being such a bitch here, but how can you publish a book that has more grammatical errors than I have bacteria in my stomach? Buggs doesn't know the difference between 'less' and 'fewer', and uses both words interchangeably in circumstances that one should ideally not. The highlight for me, though was that Ms. Buggs doesn't get the whole your/you're deal.
The humour is about as fake as Donatella Versace's face, and it tries too, too hard to appeal to the reader. Buggs likes elaborating on every single point, and as I have mentioned many, many times before, readers like it better if you show them, not tell them everything. If you've mentioned once that you're clumsy, and that your colleagues keep asking how your trip was, we get that you tripped over a wire, and didn't fly to Spain in the span of a working day.
All Lucy does is whine and wine and do stupid things like throwing a bottle of wine at her husband rather than, you know, talking about her issues like a normal wife would, with her husband. and her husband is like Casanova or something; he flirts with anything that has a vagina. Lucy is one of the most immature motherfuckers I've ever had the displeasure to read of; I mean, she actually thinks money can buy happiness. What the actual fuck? She's a self-confessed workaholic who barely has time for anything else, which, according to me is probably why her husband hates her in the first place. When her husband, after being hit on the head by her bottle of wine is lying unconscious on the kitchen floor, her first thought is "oh, shit, look at all that wine going to waste", rather than "my husband might just be dead". She even names the 'butterfly in her stomach' Henry. I can't even go there. She wants a shark to bit his penis off, or something. I know twelve year-olds more mature than her.
If only Ms. Buggs had spent half the time she spent writing unnecessary crap on good grammar instead, we may have had a better book. But then again, she's the bestselling author. Not me. ...more
Loading...
