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ysobelThere is a book I picked up probably when it was free on Amazon, that is so bad I am currently hate-reading it (but will probably stop because I have better things to do with my time).
I do not know if the mystery resolves in any satisfying way or if the characters ever stop being so cliche. But the writing is ... painful.
Examples, because I want you all to suffer with me.
...talented, inne? I'm surprised he doesn't end up making spluttering noises.
Mild case of telling, but I didn't *really* start raising my eyebrows until
The dialogue is ok on its own, but with the stuff about first names in the narrative I thought he was asking if she had a second name. Then I thought maybe duel. Then I realized he just wanted to talk to her.
This is the detective in charge of the missing persons case talking to the victim's sister, who is the viewpoint for this chapter (the book switches between her viewpoint in "present" day and her sisters viewpoint 33 months before), about the missing woman:
First off, the detective never says it was *her* stalker, just that she helped with the case, and he doesn't say anything to contradict that assumption. But more importantly, the middle paragraph has a) a possibly dangling modifier (do the diamonds need scrubbing, or the pendant, or the whole necklace?) and b) absolutely no place there. I'm guessing it's either intended to imply that the ex is/was a stalker, or just clumsy writing, but I don't know which.
In the right context, this could work. If he had been introduced as someone who always takes cream and sugar, then she sees him make himself some a different way. If his wife always made it too sweet and too creamy and he's finally getting the chance to make his own. Something. But here it's just a weirdly emphatic redundancy. (Also, the first sentence feels like "my writing professor told me to include more setting descriptions" rather than something that belongs.)
...what is he, a cat?
Tofu.
...apparently I made a very interesting expression at this, because my aide K (whom I had been reading snippets at) started laughing before I could explain.
This is the to-be-victim in one of the in-the-past chapters, interacting with her 10-year-old stepdaughter, child of the husband's previous marriage:
Yes, totally the worst. Also an entirely suitable punishment for that kind of "offense". Wait, sorry, my sarcasm switch was on ...
The ex-wife shows up for the kids. Her waist is described as "whittled", and "her voice as fake as the D-cup implants protruding from her chest wall and the luxurious shade of glossed auburn covering her graying mane."
Also, the narrative has no sense of irony when it declares either
Or this
In the hands of a better writer, I could buy this all as the work of an unreliable narrator. But that doesn't excuse the fact that getting a text in no way connects to entering gracefully and humbly, mich less contradicting it.
Wouldn't it be more efficient to position your body using muscles? Just a thought.
Um. Quick and nimble doesn't really go with jittery. Thesaurusese, maybe? And I think our character here is secretly lesbian or bisexual...
Wait, what?
*blink*
...I can't decide whether to keep reading or move on to something actually worthwhile. Apparently my wtf face for a lot of use this afternoon...
I do not know if the mystery resolves in any satisfying way or if the characters ever stop being so cliche. But the writing is ... painful.
Examples, because I want you all to suffer with me.
His lips pinch as he exhales,
...talented, inne? I'm surprised he doesn't end up making spluttering noises.
“Excuse me?” Andrew takes offense at my question.
Mild case of telling, but I didn't *really* start raising my eyebrows until
“Ronan,” he says, brows lifting. I’m not sure if the first-name-basis thing is an attempt to spark the beginning of some kind of interpersonal relationship or if he does this with everyone. “You have a second?”
The dialogue is ok on its own, but with the stuff about first names in the narrative I thought he was asking if she had a second name. Then I thought maybe duel. Then I realized he just wanted to talk to her.
This is the detective in charge of the missing persons case talking to the victim's sister, who is the viewpoint for this chapter (the book switches between her viewpoint in "present" day and her sisters viewpoint 33 months before), about the missing woman:
“I knew her,” he says. “Worked with her on a stalker case a couple years back. Very lovely girl. Sweet. Little on the soft-spoken side.”
My fingers twist the gold chain around my neck, tugging at the small diamond pendant—a gift from [ex-bf] years ago that I’ve never seemed to be able to part with. He gave it to me on our first anniversary after he’d spent a month working at the Student Union’s copy center just to save up for it. It’s an ugly little thing with infinitesimal diamonds in dire need of a good scrubbing, but I’ll never forget how proud he was when he presented me with the little velvet box over a ramen dinner in my dorm room.
“Meredith never told me she had a stalker.” I glance away, my stomach in knots. What else don’t I know about?
First off, the detective never says it was *her* stalker, just that she helped with the case, and he doesn't say anything to contradict that assumption. But more importantly, the middle paragraph has a) a possibly dangling modifier (do the diamonds need scrubbing, or the pendant, or the whole necklace?) and b) absolutely no place there. I'm guessing it's either intended to imply that the ex is/was a stalker, or just clumsy writing, but I don't know which.
From here, I can see past the doorway, where he’s fixing himself coffee from a stained machine on a counter next to an almond-colored fridge in a break room.
He takes it black. No cream, no sugar.
In the right context, this could work. If he had been introduced as someone who always takes cream and sugar, then she sees him make himself some a different way. If his wife always made it too sweet and too creamy and he's finally getting the chance to make his own. Something. But here it's just a weirdly emphatic redundancy. (Also, the first sentence feels like "my writing professor told me to include more setting descriptions" rather than something that belongs.)
Ronan rises, his hands splayed on his desk as his back arches.
...what is he, a cat?
I distinctly remember telling her once that if she continued telling people what they wanted to hear, one of these days it was going to backfire on her.
But my sister was tofu.
Tofu.
...apparently I made a very interesting expression at this, because my aide K (whom I had been reading snippets at) started laughing before I could explain.
This is the to-be-victim in one of the in-the-past chapters, interacting with her 10-year-old stepdaughter, child of the husband's previous marriage:
When I first moved in, she wasted no time informing her father that I wasn’t allowed in her room, to which he promptly responded by confiscating her cherished iPhone for five days, the worst punishment a parent could possibly inflict on a modern-day child.
Yes, totally the worst. Also an entirely suitable punishment for that kind of "offense". Wait, sorry, my sarcasm switch was on ...
The ex-wife shows up for the kids. Her waist is described as "whittled", and "her voice as fake as the D-cup implants protruding from her chest wall and the luxurious shade of glossed auburn covering her graying mane."
Also, the narrative has no sense of irony when it declares either
Her jealousy makes him laugh, and I’d feel badly about it if I didn’t know how awful she was to him for sixteen years—cheating, overspending, never-ending nagging and bickering. [Ex-wife] is the embodiment of a typical [location] housewife: entitled, petty, and allergic to kindness.
Or this
My hand slides down the polished wooden banister as I make my graceful entrance wearing a humble smile, but when I get to the bottom, my phone chimes with a text alert.
In the hands of a better writer, I could buy this all as the work of an unreliable narrator. But that doesn't excuse the fact that getting a text in no way connects to entering gracefully and humbly, mich less contradicting it.
With milky skin, platinum-blonde hair cut short, clear blue eyes, and a pointed nose, she positions her lithe body like some sort of barricade between me and the inside of her house.
Wouldn't it be more efficient to position your body using muscles? Just a thought.
Allison’s tense expression eases, and she licks her rosy lips before glancing over my shoulder. Her eyes are jittery, her movements quick and nimble.
Um. Quick and nimble doesn't really go with jittery. Thesaurusese, maybe? And I think our character here is secretly lesbian or bisexual...
"I’ve never met anyone so pretentious who tries so hard to act like they’re not pretentious. He talks down to everyone, and he acts like he knows everything."
Wait, what?
*blink*
...I can't decide whether to keep reading or move on to something actually worthwhile. Apparently my wtf face for a lot of use this afternoon...