Basically, judging by the blurb I assumed it would be a cute trans love story involving neurodivergence. TLDR: a paedophile's manifesto, tossed out, probably recycled into toilet paper Threw the remainder into the recycling bin in hopes thay no one else would ever have to read this copy of Vlad's vicarious fantasies. I finished the book on a beach and defiantly burned the last page. This is one of those novels that you could just put down, over and over again. I gradually recycled the pages falling off along the way. Given the age of the book, it began falling apart in the extended amount of time I suffered through it. Unfortunately, I like to read a book to the end, even if it's not promising. The writing itself was not bad, but if someone could find any point or meaning behind this drivel, I would gladly hear it. The entirety of the novel was just a prisoner recalling his paedophilic escapades without remorse. I thought it would provide some psychological insight that would give the reader something to think about, almost sympathize with the main character's situation. This is a controversial novel from the 1950s narrated by a paedophile. I picked this up at a thrift shop as I tend to gravitate toward older works and vaguely recalled the title. I feel dirty just writing this-and not because of the kinky sex scenes. I know that Stephanie Meyer did not actually write Fifty Shades of Grey, but I still consider her one of the great villains of human history for all the evils she has unleashed on the world, such as sparkly vampires, Kristen Stewart, and narcissistic sociopaths masquerading as open-minded lovers. How they managed to publish three volumes of this utter dreck is one of the great mysteries of the universe, but I truly hope that there is a special circle in Hell reserved for the editor that actually approved this garbage for publication.
#Funny vector despicable me movie#
An awful fan-fic based on an awful movie based on an awful book. It is one of the few books I can think of with absolutely no redeeming qualities: the actual writing is probably the worst I've ever read there is not a single character who is even remotely likeable and the sex scenes which are supposedly the main draw are laughably insipid-you'd be better off reading a volume of Penthouse Letters from the 1970's.
My wife wanted me to read this when it first became popular, but it was so awful that it is one of the only books in my life that I could not force myself to read all the way through. In my experience, most erotic fiction tends to be bad, but this was quantum levels beyond bad.
0 kommentar(er)
