The reviews for the new book look fantastic. The professional review journals, Goodreads and your favourite book bloggers all rave.
And it finally comes in from the library for you and you cozy up in your softest reading chair with the largest cup of tea you can support with one hand and comfy slippers. You settle in to read...
 |
| Except the couch is a book |
... And it's terrible.
Sooooo terrible.
And long. Ever so long. All of a sudden, it is the longest book ever. Like when you weren't looking, the write wrote 100 more pages to stick in the back so that you have to keep reading. This is going to be the last book that you'll ever read because you will be reading it until you die. Years late.
Where is the sparkle of the last books? Where are the charming characters that are as real to you as real people? Where was the sense of history and beautiful prose? What are these people with the same names as the characters in previous books making the most BONEHEAD decisions?
And do you write about it?
In the case of you vs the world, do you back the world on this one?
