I’ve said it before…

Good books don’t last long enough.

A couple weeks ago I was at the library and snagged a copy of ‘An Underachiever’s Diary’ by Benjamin Anastas. This HORRID volume of crybaby ‘feel sorry for me’ angst fiction took me four, almost five, days to get through it’s 160 or so pages of drivel. Several times I just wanted to set it on fire or take it into the bathroom as a toilet paper replacement. It SUCKED. The author should have his fingers broken if he even thinks about publishing further.

In contrast, I picked up ‘The Map of Moments: A Novel of the Hidden Cities’ by Christopher Golden and Tim Lebbon (the 2nd book by these two authors I’ve read this month) yesterday around 9:00 PM and finished its 360 or so pages this morning around 5:00 AM. I was glued to the pages. Going as far as fighting off the need to pee (more than once!) just to finish a chapter. This book sucked me in and held me captive until the very end.

In conclusion, oddly, bad books have longer, if not better, entertainment value. Anastas book may have been garbage, boring, insipid dreck, but it gave me days longer reading value than Moments did.

Good books suck!

Hawk (is very confused)


  1. Chilly

    I’ve read several books like that. They always put me in mind of the Dorothy Parker quote, “This is not a novel to be tossed aside lightly. It should be thrown with great force.”


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