Ruminating On:

My Semi-Fictional Life #85 (Worst Book of 2016)

Hello peeps. The run up to the end of the year is upon us, and as promised, here I am with the Best and the Worst of 2016. From December 27-31, I will be showcasing my picks for my favorites reads of the year. But today we need to flush the nasty from sight so we can get to the good stuff. The only stipulation I gave this category is that I must have fought through and finished the book. No DNFs.

Each category will have a top spot and a runner up. Even today’s…

My pick for the worst book read in 2016 is…

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You can click on the image to read my review, but suffice it to say that Paul Tremblay is a terrible author. None of his ideas are his own, and his writing style is bare minimum. I tried to give him another shot by reading Disappearance at Devil’s Rock and I couldn’t get past the three chapters. And that was in audio. Usually I can force my way through audio, as I did with A Head Full of Ghosts, but I couldn’t do with Disappearance. His writing is boring and flavorless and dumbed-down to the point that I deem him the James Patterson of horror. Hell, he even made me appreciate Josh Malerman a little more, and I thought that was impossible.

This year’s runner up goes to…

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Jerusalem was almost this year’s winner, but looking back on Alan Moore’s masturbatory leavings, I do think that the middle of Jerusalem is a fine novel. It’s the other 900 pages that suck all the balls. My review is fun times, so give it a read if you haven’t already. Clicking on the book cover above will take you to it. The updates along the way are equally entertaining.

So that’s it; my worst reads of 2016. I’m sure some insecure folks out there will say this is just an author who’s a hater hating on people’s beloved shit, but these are my honest opinions. This year’s choices were really easy. As soon as I asked myself what two books I hated, these two popped into my head. After looking on GR, I can’t even remember the other books I one-starred. But these? They were garbage to the point of being burned into my psyche. Not Quite Gandalf and the James Patterson of Horror don’t have to worry, though. This hater isn’t reading anymore of their books.

See you tomorrow,

E.

P.S. Flash Fiction Friday is being postponed this week so that I can do my year in review. Sorry for those of you looking forward to it. We’ll be back at ’em next Monday, I promise. No Pic of the Day, either. Consider the covers of these books to be your PotD. *winky face*

 

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