I just hate it when a alternate-reality, ghost, fantasy book with a great premise turns out to be a third-rate love story larded up with flabby writing and half-assed political critique.
I’m not going to name the book, partly because I don’t think it’s the sort of thing my few readers would usually read, partly because why harsh some dude’s holiday buzz if he goes Googling his name and finds a negative review. But I’m at the age where I feel like an ass for finishing books that aren’t good. This one gave fair warning–the early pages, instead of moving the plot along, would bog down in description of such fascinating things as the weather and people walking by on the streets. Now, this sort of thing can be good reading, in the right hands. This was just blah. But the premise kept me going, and there were sections where I felt I was being taken somewhere cool. Almost. The book ended with a whimper, lots of build-up resulting in a “resolution” more befitting a college kid’s idea of how a New Yorker short story should end. It was “deep,” man. Deeply disappointing.
I can tell by Amazon reviews that at least a couple of people have had the same experience with my stuff. Such is life. I just feel used. SOMEONE HOLD ME!