Abuse of Power - by Nancy Taylor Rosenberg. Nauseatingly bad. I couldn't take it, and just skipped to the end, which was stupider and worse than I had predicted. Nasty! Irritating! Maddening! Rapesploitation! Who lent me this book? throw it away immediately.
The Nature of the Beast - Frances Fyfield. Looks bad from the blurb. I'll give it a chance, but one more power-hungry beautiful rich bitch and sociopathic alcoholic man and I'll fling the book across the room unless it's a work of fabulous genius.
Various by Patricia Cornwell - No. I just can't handle the cornball "oh I'm so cutesy let's be all southern wad-chewing fuckfaces" flavor. What dreck. Good god. Back into the bag it goes. I feel soiled and never want to read anything from the 20th century ever again. Worse than awful fantasy novels recently encountered - way worse. Worse than mary sues. Worse than those godawful sciencefictiony fan books that everyone thinks are so funny, but aren't. From page 1 of "Isle of Dogs": "Unique was a petite eighteen-year-old with long, shimmering hair that was as black as ebony, and her skin was translucent like milk glass, her lips full and pink." Um. It's not like that's the worst of it, but... right on page one!
Oh lordie lordie lordie.
That reminds me. I have to go out on the porch and give a certain book a brief reprieve from garage sale execution just so I can quote something amazingly poisonous.
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What Einstein Told His Cook: Kitchen Science Explained. by Robert L. Wolke. With Recipes. For fuck's sake man. Just bitch slap me, throw me on the floor and fuck me. Remove my shoes, knock me up, and give me that lobotomy, so that I can bear to read a whole book where page one paragraph two is as follows:
(You'll be seeing the word molecule frequently throughout this book. Don't panic. All you need to know is that a molecule is, in the words of a first-grader of my acquaintance, "one of those eentsy-weentsy things that stuff is made of." That definition, plus the corollary that different stuff is different because it's made of different kinds of molecules, will stand you in good stead.)How can any self respecting human being continue after that little gem of condescension? The whole book is like that. "Yo! moronic housewife, ye who are my target audience! I'm going to use big words, but don't be alarmed! You don't need to understand them! It's all about COOKING, which you understand instinctively! Just as long as you remember that I'm superior! And I have a Masters' Degree... in SCIENCE!" It goes all big wordy and then gets all falsely jovial and folksy, like the most horrible of fluff pieces from "Parenting" magazine.
Yo Einstein, cook this up your ass!
I love a useless bit of trivia as well as the next person. I _would_ like to know the latest research on juicing limes. But not at the expense of my IMMORTAL SOUL.
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