Post by Vaughan on Aug 7, 2009 23:41:50 GMT
You're probably thinking you're going to get a review of this book round about now. But you're not. Sorry about that. It's time to get controversial!
The fact is, this book represents everything that is so annoying, cumbersome, and dull about Stephen King. In short, it's bloody awful.
I bought the hard back, I don't know why. I've not even been able to trade it away, and that tells you something (such as, people are a lot wiser than me).
If I had to sum up the majority of King's writing, I'd say it's bloated, dull, and meandering. King could no more write a Crab story (a barometer of all good writing) than he could manage to carry all the copies of his novels that get sold. I keep asking myself, why? Why? WHY!
This sodding book, to add insult to injury, starts brilliantly. Yes, you heard that right. The first 15 to 20 pages are quite good, with Cell phones ringing, driving people mad. Okay, so it borrows heavily from the current crop of Asian horror titles (it shouldn't take anyone too long to find a copy of The Phone, for example - albeit with a different twist) but that's okay. It's just that the book goes on and on and on. GET TO THE POINT STEPHEN!!!
I'm a little ashamed to say, I didn't finish it. Hence no review. I can only give my reasons for abandoning it. The reason was, I was BORED. Really really bored. And I even trudged through a Ramsey Campbell!
I'm not buying any more King. And I'm off right now to create a thread on Koontz too. As usual when talking about King you've got to go to his early works: Carrie, Salem's Lot etc. to find real worth. Then things get bloated and bloated until you've got an exploding whale in your lap. What a stink!
But King sells, apparently. So what do I know?
The fact is, this book represents everything that is so annoying, cumbersome, and dull about Stephen King. In short, it's bloody awful.
I bought the hard back, I don't know why. I've not even been able to trade it away, and that tells you something (such as, people are a lot wiser than me).
If I had to sum up the majority of King's writing, I'd say it's bloated, dull, and meandering. King could no more write a Crab story (a barometer of all good writing) than he could manage to carry all the copies of his novels that get sold. I keep asking myself, why? Why? WHY!
This sodding book, to add insult to injury, starts brilliantly. Yes, you heard that right. The first 15 to 20 pages are quite good, with Cell phones ringing, driving people mad. Okay, so it borrows heavily from the current crop of Asian horror titles (it shouldn't take anyone too long to find a copy of The Phone, for example - albeit with a different twist) but that's okay. It's just that the book goes on and on and on. GET TO THE POINT STEPHEN!!!
I'm a little ashamed to say, I didn't finish it. Hence no review. I can only give my reasons for abandoning it. The reason was, I was BORED. Really really bored. And I even trudged through a Ramsey Campbell!
I'm not buying any more King. And I'm off right now to create a thread on Koontz too. As usual when talking about King you've got to go to his early works: Carrie, Salem's Lot etc. to find real worth. Then things get bloated and bloated until you've got an exploding whale in your lap. What a stink!
But King sells, apparently. So what do I know?