To Read and Not to Read

May I vent a moment? Because I am going to vent. You see, earlier this summer I picked up two books and because summer is awfully busy sometimes, I finally finished both of them (and started a couple more in between because that's just my style), and one was okay and one really, really ticks me off.

I liked this book:


It was fairly well-written, the characters were developed quite nicely, the plot was simple enough, but the writer understood the complexities that can spring from that simplicity. I didn't appreciate the sexual content, but then, I never appreciate the sexual content because, frankly--who needs to read that? It wasn't grocery-store-paper-back-romance-novel-graphic or anything, but I think it could have left more off the page in that regard. I would recommend it with that warning to you all.

Then, there was this book:


Let me be honest, I finished this book for the mere purpose of writing this seething review. I picked this number up thinking, oh, that could be good, the inside flap made it sound like it could be intriguing. Wrong! All wrong. I felt insulted as a reader. James Patterson and Gabrielle Charbonnet co-wrote this monstrosity of a book. So, Jim, Gabby here are a few words of wisdom for your mass-produced crap: People come in many different categories, as do characters. But the good or bad, black or white, flat, stagnant, boring characters you've created (and I use that term loosely) in Sunday's at Tiffany's don't seem to fit in any categories familiar to me--write some more complexity into them and I might feel slightly more connected. Also, the female psyche is not as cut and dried--"in order to be happy I need ice cream and somebody to love me" as you make it out to be. As I feel that your book was marketed to a female readership, I must ask you, What in the SAM HAM HILL were you thinking in creating women as either the bitch or the ice-cream eating victim? Seriously, Gabby, Jim, terrible, terrible novel.

And I won't even get started on the Junie B. Jones-sized font, margins, spaces, etc. (And Junie, honey, I love you, you are great and fantastic and more complex than any of the characters in this book I'm discussing--I'm sorry I made reference to your 2nd grade reading level sized font, but I needed to prove a point).

I only tell you all this to say don't waste your hard-earned money as I did. And if you liked it, okay, I'm glad you liked it. Frankly, I think there probably is a readership for this book, but it sure as heck wasn't me.

Oh, and I think James Patterson is an ego-maniac. First clue--his photo covered the entirety of the back cover of the book. Big, fat-headed Jimmy on the back cover of the book! HELLO--I should have known the minute I picked the blasted thing up that it wasn't for me. That is NOT my kind of author.