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phosfateFinished the book I was reading last night around 11:00, and went scavenging for something new. Pulled out Mom's copy of Tuesdays With Morrie, mostly because it was small and in big type.
I can only say, Jesus Christ on a box kite, what a bloody horrible book! A reminder that truly this is the nation that made best-sellers of Hallmark-card tripe like Jonathan Livingston Seagull and Love Story. Mitch, yer narrator, has a facility for bringing his characters to life on a par with that of, oh, Carolyn Keene. Which is pretty sad considering he's writing about actual human beings. By the end I was wishing I could leap into the book and help Morrie on his way with a well-placed pillow.
L'il Mitch also managed to enrage me by mis-spelling "queue."
I would like to hit him with a fire bucket.
I can only say, Jesus Christ on a box kite, what a bloody horrible book! A reminder that truly this is the nation that made best-sellers of Hallmark-card tripe like Jonathan Livingston Seagull and Love Story. Mitch, yer narrator, has a facility for bringing his characters to life on a par with that of, oh, Carolyn Keene. Which is pretty sad considering he's writing about actual human beings. By the end I was wishing I could leap into the book and help Morrie on his way with a well-placed pillow.
L'il Mitch also managed to enrage me by mis-spelling "queue."
I would like to hit him with a fire bucket.