This must be “Krystin reads nothing but misogynistic stories” month, because this is my second in a row, and let me tell you, I’m fucking over it.
I’ll give this review some context real fast. Frederick Starks – a very rich, successful businessman – is married with three kids. His wife, Kayla, is unfaithful to him. They separate. One night, while driving aimlessly, ruminating on the state of his failed marriage, he pulls up to the house of the man Kayla cheated with and beats the shit out of him in front of the man’s wife and children, putting the man into a coma. Police arrive, Starks is caught red-handed, quite literally, and is arrested. He goes to trial and is found guilty.
But for some reason Starks just can’t believe the jury convicted him. Basically his whole position on his guilt is: “my wife cheated, and the guy was mean to me, so I can’t be held responsible for my actions.”
In fact, at his trial, the defence mounted by his attorney is nothing more than a character assassination of Kayla because “she’s a whore“, as if that’s a legit reason to nearly kill a man.
Continue reading “Review: When The Serpent Bites (The Starks Trilogy, #1) by Nesly Clerge”
“What we’ve got here is a failure to communicate.”
This quote from the 1967 film, COOL HAND LUKE, basically sums up how I’m feeling after reading this book. And I’ve never even seen the movie. The quote just came to me, as a thing I know somehow, deep from within the pop culture recesses of my mind. There’s a lot of useless information in there.
I might also go with: “…in the galaxy of This Sucks Camel Dicks!” Stepbrothers, 2008.
What I mean to say is: I wish the publishers hadn’t stuffed this novel into the psychological-thriller genre just because that’s where all the cool kids are, and had instead been honest about what this book is: a dark romance meets women’s fiction meets soap opera intrigue with a terrible, TERRIBLE message.
It’s not a thriller. I’m sorry, but no. I am not thrilled.
Had I known this from the start, I would have passed on reading it, because this level of dramatic soap-opera nutty-ness is just not my thing. It lacks humour and humanity, and is overpopulated with terrible one-liners, cliches and silly dialogue and tropes that feel like a reenactment. And the writing is derivative and basic.
Not to mention, the internal misogyny that permeates the entire theme gets my feminist hackles up.
Anyway….I didn’t know I shouldn’t read this, so I did, and now I have library late fees and a shitty review to write, so buckle in, bitches.
(This could get mildly spoiler-y because I’m going to rant, so if you’re super excited to read this, here’s my takeaway: Don’t waste your time with this, unless you’re cool with domestic abuse. Otherwise, read on!)
Continue reading “Review: The Last Mrs. Parrish by Liv Constantine”