The Worst Book I ever Read…

death book

 

What Makes a Good Book?

An anti- review or Reverse review…

This could catch on… for don’t they say that there is no such thing as negative publicity?

There is a theory that if a book or something is panned well enough, people will want to read it, just to see if they agree…

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“10 million copies sold” it stated on the cover of the Scandinavian crime thriller I was trying to read. Published by Harper Collins in 2004.

The cover was less than inspiring I thought, a monotone image of broken ice, revealing dark water beneath.

The blurb said it was ‘heart-stopping’ with a gripping plot line, with plenty of twists and turns along the way. I truly thought I was in for one hell of a read…

But I was bored to tears.

The prose was ordinary and seemed to go on and on about every mundane thing the author could think of.

It was a very long book, 400 pages (or did it just seem that way due to the amount of time taken for anything to happen?)

 

I always thought I could read anything and enjoy it, and to be fair, I have enjoyed reading all manner of books in a variety of genres. I don’t remember disliking a book so much before.

The author has written several books, so was not exactly new to the art, so what was my problem?

Was it because the book was originally written in Scandinavian and subsequently translated?

There were no glaring errors or typos, and the words flowed well enough, albeit slowly. Maybe that was it, for crime thrillers should move smartly along. Hardly a thriller if it didn’t, right?

So I gave up. I had tried, but it didn’t do anything for me. I read for many different reasons, but boredom isn’t one of them.

You’ll notice I didn’t name the book, but astute readers will probably guess which one it was.  I wonder how many of you have found yourselves in a similar situation?

 


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Response

  1. Woebegone but Hopeful Avatar

    Often.
    I’ve started out reading a fantasy saga (which must comprise at least three books) having been told by the media, a fellow customer in a book-shop who I wished would go away and leave me in peace, or the blurb how this series is wonderful, amazing and (other superlatives).
    After a hundred pages (well fantasy sagas have to be slow starters, otherwise the author couldn’t get away with three books) I realise I don’t care what happens to anyone, my imagination places silly hats on the villains, somehow fixes the Marx Brothers into the plot and custard pies replace swords.
    With many ‘best cellars (sic)’ there’s more than a touch of The Emperor’s New Clothes.

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