Happy Endings Are All Alike (by Sandra Scoppettone) has got to be the worst written book I've ever read. It had so much potential, too! It's full of interesting people--the lesbian lovers, Jaret and Peggy. The jealous, bitter older sister who wants to learn psychology as a weapon. The mother who is a little more intelligent than her husband and so treats hims like a son. The younger brother, trying to struggle out of adolescence without much in the way of a role model. The good friend Bianca, unfailingly honest as she struggles to understand.
Despite all that, here are the comments I made while I was reading it:
- I'm on page 37 and I've already been in five peoples' heads.
- Please, please please never let me accidentally pick up this writing style. She writes a paragraph of omniscient backstory for every two lines of dialog.
- And keeps making really obvious editorial comments. Is this story being told by God?
Worst of all, she tried to make it into a psychological thriller by adding stream-of-consciousness style passages from inside the head of an angry adolescent stalker, whose identity is kept anonymous until the bloody crisis. It reminds me of Silence of the Lambs except (a) this book way predates Silence of the Lambs and (b) that book was actually good.
I see that the author has written many other books and most seem to be crime novels or thrillers. Maybe they're good--I hope so--I'll never read them. She has talent. (Shudder)
No comments:
Post a Comment