So I read it, sort of. I was intrigued at first, and was kind of gliding along, trusting that it would hold up to be a great book. It started out to be pretty interesting. Then the plot just fell off a cliff, and I did something I almost never do--I gave up. I suddenly became so annoyed with the whole thing that I skipped to the end to see if it would pull out of the mess. It appeared to have kept going downhill and ended in a mangled heap of a cliche. It was so awful that I threw it in the garbage because I couldn't in good conscience pass it on to anyone.
I'm being purposely vague because if I said the name of the book, you would know it. How in the name of literary goodness does this happen? I simply can't wrap my mind around the fact that this book was so popular.
I call my story "funny" because for me, it was. I love unique, stale, old books that turn out to be contain gems of wisdom and pearls of greatness. I love classic works of genius that are staggering, yet manageable and retain a permanent greatness. I like modern bestsellers that half my friends have read, and we can all agree. When it comes down to it, I don't really care who else likes it, as long as I liked it. I learned a tough lesson anew. No offense to the masses, but a bestseller isn't necessarily a good book, and a great book isn't necessarily a bestseller.
*Epilogue: I just checked, and I am comforted that around 750 people on Amazon gave a one-star review, as I would have. I may be a minority, but I am not alone.
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