I'm in the mountains, and I brought it with me. Don't judge.
First, a note: If one sets one's phone notification ringtone to the Final Fantasy victory theme, and one keeps it by the bed, and occasionally has company in said bed, one must be prepared for the inevitable (in)opportune sounding of said ringtone.
MOVING ON.
Previously, in this heinous punishment disguised as literature.
There's really no way to ease back into this book. Chapter three kicks off with Blue's very special relationship with God.
You think I'm kidding.
"Every now and then, at night, before I fell asleep, I found myself staring at the ceiling, praying for something real to happen, something that would transform, me - and God always took on the personality of the ceiling at which I was staring."
This meditation on the divine continues on for a full two paragraphs. It's a midrash on the dynamics of plaster. We escape from it into the description of a house she then moves into with an alleged rainforest for a yard. I think the author attempts to throw in random details to flesh out her characters, but adding an inline reference about your father's shoe size is just empty padding.
Then she describes the gardener. It's so wretched, offensive, and downright awful I can't even subject you to it. OR SO YOU WISH.
"His name was Andreo Verduga, and he was the most beautiful creature I'd ever seen (see "Panther," Glorious Predators of the Natural World, Goodwin, 1987). He was tan, with black hair, gypsy eyes and, from what I could deduce from my upstairs bedroom window, a torso as smooth as a river rock. He was from Peru. He wore heavy cologne and spoke in the language of an old-fashioned telegram."
That was verbatim, ladies and gentlemen. Grab your liquor, it only gets worse from here. Surprise, surprise, he's a lazy eye-candy of a gardener, for which Blue teachers herself Spanish. I wish I could say in good faith that this was an attempt at caricature, but deep in my heart of hearts I know it's meant in earnest. Now, about that liquor…
Anyways, said manstud gets himself injured or shot or something and Blue nobly saves his life by taking him to the hospital, and her father gets agitated, and it's all so horribly fucking contrived I can hardly bear to summarize it all. Then she compares the nurses to ants. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to put this booze down before I regurgitate it. Everything about this character is repulsive to me. I know I've said it before, but it's not getting any better! If anything, she's getting worse!
Anyways, father takes great upset, manstud vanishes mysteriously from hospital, it's all very traumatic blah blah blah. Of course Blue gets over it and moves on. HA. I wish. No, there's pining, a chance encounter (maybe) on future travels that goes nowhere and does nothing. Oh, did I mention that she refers to him as her "Heathcliff," throughout? Did I miss a memo about him not treating everyone like shit and actually being a likable character?
I'm stopping there. Yes, it's only one chapter, but reading this books is like mountain climbing. Start with some warm-ups, then take on the big peaks.
MOVING ON.
Previously, in this heinous punishment disguised as literature.
There's really no way to ease back into this book. Chapter three kicks off with Blue's very special relationship with God.
You think I'm kidding.
"Every now and then, at night, before I fell asleep, I found myself staring at the ceiling, praying for something real to happen, something that would transform, me - and God always took on the personality of the ceiling at which I was staring."
This meditation on the divine continues on for a full two paragraphs. It's a midrash on the dynamics of plaster. We escape from it into the description of a house she then moves into with an alleged rainforest for a yard. I think the author attempts to throw in random details to flesh out her characters, but adding an inline reference about your father's shoe size is just empty padding.
Then she describes the gardener. It's so wretched, offensive, and downright awful I can't even subject you to it. OR SO YOU WISH.
"His name was Andreo Verduga, and he was the most beautiful creature I'd ever seen (see "Panther," Glorious Predators of the Natural World, Goodwin, 1987). He was tan, with black hair, gypsy eyes and, from what I could deduce from my upstairs bedroom window, a torso as smooth as a river rock. He was from Peru. He wore heavy cologne and spoke in the language of an old-fashioned telegram."
That was verbatim, ladies and gentlemen. Grab your liquor, it only gets worse from here. Surprise, surprise, he's a lazy eye-candy of a gardener, for which Blue teachers herself Spanish. I wish I could say in good faith that this was an attempt at caricature, but deep in my heart of hearts I know it's meant in earnest. Now, about that liquor…
Anyways, said manstud gets himself injured or shot or something and Blue nobly saves his life by taking him to the hospital, and her father gets agitated, and it's all so horribly fucking contrived I can hardly bear to summarize it all. Then she compares the nurses to ants. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to put this booze down before I regurgitate it. Everything about this character is repulsive to me. I know I've said it before, but it's not getting any better! If anything, she's getting worse!
Anyways, father takes great upset, manstud vanishes mysteriously from hospital, it's all very traumatic blah blah blah. Of course Blue gets over it and moves on. HA. I wish. No, there's pining, a chance encounter (maybe) on future travels that goes nowhere and does nothing. Oh, did I mention that she refers to him as her "Heathcliff," throughout? Did I miss a memo about him not treating everyone like shit and actually being a likable character?
I'm stopping there. Yes, it's only one chapter, but reading this books is like mountain climbing. Start with some warm-ups, then take on the big peaks.