I'm a big bloke (7ft tall) and I am forever reading. This will mostly be my thoughts as I am reading and possibly a review or two. You may know me as Archer.
I am basically a lurker. My life revolves around my wife, my cats, Books, and entertainment.
I'm working on building and setting up a forge and I'm generally one of those people who can be found causing or in the middle of mischief somewhere...
Don’t look at me like that; yes I am fully aware of the shit storm that went down around Geoffrey Girard and yes it did smack a little bit condescending but this book sounded absolutely amazeballs so I was willing to give it the benefit of the doubt.
And then Steph comes back from BEA and proudly proclaims “Archer I have books for you” and this was one of them… Steph, dear, I don’t blame you, you weren’t to know. I want you to know that before I go on. I love you, you’re amazing…
But this book sucks more rancid horse cock than a two bit meth head in a fucking drought. Holy fuckballs I’d heard that the start of it was nearly all info dump but I assumed it was an exaggeration… It wasn’t. I made it about 100 pages in before I ended up throwing the book at the wall, which oddly didn’t help this time, so I proceeded to jump up and down on the fucker… It still didn’t help and I have to think of a suitable way to punish this book for demanding that trees be cut down so that it can inexplicably exist.
I’d been doing so well too, I’d read books that let me down (The Fury), Books that annoyed me (A Midsummer Nights Scream) and books that I’ve adored to the point of wanting to the author a fucking cake made out of the finest ingredients known to man… well to Australia at least… (Feed) but 2013 thus far had not caused me to have the readers equivalent of the rage quit. In fact I haven’t been this pissed off at book since I tried to read The Raie Chabladeblahdeblahpfffft or whatever the fuck it’s called.
So please, dear readers, believe me when I say that every single word that I read of this book was infodump… Yes, every SINGLE WORD. Even the fucking dialogue. And that is failed fucking potential if you ask me. Think about it… No really, sit there and think about how awesome this novel could’ve been. It’s about cloning serial killers for fucks sake, it should have been a blood soaked spectacle of awesome. Yet here I am, subjected to the meandering musings of a character who is regurgitating information about serial killers and their victim preferences from Wikipedia articles that I’ve already read, or been made aware of.
If it was once in a blue moon in the narrative, I could forgive it… But I’m not forgiving all of the book that I read for being it continuously. *headdesk* Why do I do this to myself? Why do I insist in believing that just because a book is aged at a teenaged market, doesn’t mean that it has to be of such a poor fucking standard that it makes me weep for the future generations? BECAUSE THERE ARE SOME THAT ARE ALREADY FUCKING OUT THERE! Books like Seraphina, Cinder, The Knife of Never Letting Go and even Angelfall to certain extent prove that there is good writing out there for young adults. So why, somebody, anybody, do we have to subject them to this… shite? Do you really hate them that much? Do you actually want people to stop reading altogether? Because with the publication of this steamy pile of smegma I’m starting to believe that you do. Videogames and movies aren’t the cause for the decline in reading in younger readers, especially younger males. The cause is quite simply, lack of good writing. And it fucking infuriates me. And because of that I have one mofre book to throw on the shit heap and to move on to try and find something that actually lives up to its concept and doesn’t look at you like a severely injured puppy that I just want to put out of it’s misery as a mercy.
Fuck this, I’m sick and tired of piss poor attempts at conspiracy horror.