Gone Girl

Gone Girl

by Gillian Flynn

On a warm summer morning in North Carthage, Missouri, it is Nick and Amy Dunne’s fifth wedding anniversary. Presents are being wrapped and reservations are being made when Nick’s clever and beautiful wife disappears from their rented McMansion on the Mississippi River. Husband-of-the-Year Nick isn’t doing himself any favors with cringe-worthy daydreams about the slope and shape of his wife’s head, but passages from Amy's diary reveal the alpha-girl perfectionist could have put anyone dangerously on edge. Under mounting pressure from the police and the media—as well as Amy’s fiercely doting parents—the town golden boy parades an endless series of lies, deceits, and inappropriate behavior. Nick is oddly evasive, and he’s definitely bitter—but is he really a killer?

As the cops close in, every couple in town is soon wondering how well they know the one that they love. With his twin sister, Margo, at his side, Nick stands by his innocence. Trouble is, if Nick didn’t do it, where is that beautiful wife? And what was in that silvery gift box hidden in the back of her bedroom closet?

With her razor-sharp writing and trademark psychological insight, Gillian Flynn delivers a fast-paced, devilishly dark, and ingeniously plotted thriller that confirms her status as one of the hottest writers around

If I were forced to use one word to describe my initial reaction to Gone Girl, it'd be aJHSLJKHADSKJFASD. If that word could somehow be an emotion, I felt it. Hard. 

This book was blowing up all summer with everyone and their mother talking about it, and I'm not even exaggerating about the "mother" part. In addition to critical acclaim (not to mention a seven-figure movie deal from Reese Witherspoon's company), it's become a very popular book club pick.

And oh boy, does this book live up to the hype.

Flynn is one of the first authors I've encountered that tackles dual perspectives successfully. Like, really successfully. The story is told in alternating chapters by Nick, husband and suspected murderer, and Amy, the missing wife herself, through diary excerpts. Each character is fully fleshed out and--get this--distinct. So often, dual perspectives fail in novels because there's barely a distinction between characters, but not here. Oh, no.

Not just that, but Flynn has this incredible ability to make me both adore and despise her characters. I fluctuated in my suspicions of Amy's disappearance to the point where I was ready to bust out the Clue moves on this one: It was _____ in the kitchen with the candlestick! 

Of course, I was dead wrong. So, so, so wrong. I never saw the plot twist (or should I say twists) in this book coming. Not for a mile. 

For the sake of keeping this spoiler-free, I'm going to stay away from major plot points, but let me give you this: everything that happens in this book. E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G. I remember reading Great Expectations my senior year of high school and just being amazed when every thread somehow reconnected in the end, and Gone Girl manages to do the same thing. Just with more sex scenes. 

It's rare that a book can do just about everything write--characters, plot, writing style (oh, Lord, I wish I could write like Gillian Flynn...)--but Gone Girl manages. 

I'm not sure this is a book everyone could love, though. Besides "perfect" and "deeply unsettling," the next word I'd use to describe it is "frustrating." But with thrillers, I think that's a wonderful book trait. Not everyone does.  

But if it even seems mildly interesting, read it. Read it read it read it. Then report back to me because UGH THE ENDING IS SO GOOD AND I NEED EVERYONE TO TALK ABOUT IT WITH.

THE VERDICT? 

(As if this'll come as a surprise....)

The Selection

The Selection

by Keira Cass

Published by HarperTeen, 2012

(From the book flap) For thirty-five girls the Selection is the chance of a lifetime. The opportunity to escape the life laid out for them since birth. To be swept up in a world of glittering gowns and priceless jewels. To live in a palace and compete for the heart of gorgeous Prince Maxon.

But for America Singer, being Selected is a nightmare. It means turning her back on her secret love with Aspen, who is a caste below her. Leaving her home to enter a fierce competition for a crown she doesn't want. Living in a palace that is constantly threatened by violent rebel attacks.

Then America meets Prince Maxon. Gradually, she starts to question all the plans she's made for herself--and realizes that the life she's always dreamed of may not compare to a future she never imagined. 

Expectations: I was completely expecting dribble. I had heard things about this book and I know there was a drama involving a Goodreads review and the author herself.

Reality: There are three immediate problems with this book. First there is the cover, I mean, look at it. It's gorgeous. That is perhaps the best cover I've ever seen in YA. How could you not want to read that book? Second problem is the book flap itself. Firstly, there are too many sentence fragments in the book flap summary. The third immediate problem was the main character's name: America Singer. Really? What kind of a name is that? And with a last name like that, is it any wonder she happens to be a musician? 

All of the set-ups in this book are painfully obvious. Young girl doesn't want to be a part of the competition, signs up for it because her family and secret boyfriend encourage her to anyway, and gets selected against all odds. She's the only girl out of 35 who doesn't want to be there, so guess who gets the most attention? She sasses the prince because she "doesn't care" and of course he admires her for it. The worst part of this really is America herself. She's completely unbelievable as a character, and damn it she is a Mary Sue if I've ever seen one. 

She's beautiful but doesn't know it, which is the most annoying character trait that ever existed. Really, do authors think that if a character has a good awareness of their own looks it makes them vain somehow? This false humility they are trying to instill in characters is horrifying. Let me supply you with a direct quote as proof of this annoying fact.

"Please don't call me gorgeous. First my mom, then May, now you. It's getting on my nerves." By the way Aspen was looking at me, I could tell I wasn't helping my "I'm not pretty" case. He smiled.

Doesn't she sound like a peach? Because she's the only girl who "doesn't care" she does things like smile at lowly peasants and treat the servants nicely and magically becomes everyone's favorite through no direct actions of her own. If someone pointed these actions out to her she was "surprised" that it was a big deal and she's just oh-so-accidentally-wonderful. 

America's secret, pre-competition relationship with her childhood friend, Aspen, is another point of annoyance for me. Cass obviously designed the timeline so that we never get to know Aspen as a character, and so we immediately root for Prince Maxon because we have about 250 more pages with him. And then there is the fun part where Aspen freaks out on America because she made him food and he's mad because he's supposed to provide for her. Woe! Poor wittle boy can't provide because he's poor and little. Grow up. It was a forced love-triangle that isn't a love triangle because America is a drillbit of epic proportions. How so, you ask? Let me tell you. (mild spoilers)

America straight up tells Maxon that she doesn't want to be there, she's not interested, she loves someone else, and she's at the competition for the money it gives her family. Maxon is all like, oh okay can we be friends then? I have no friends. America doesn't see the problem with that except that EVERYONE ELSE CAN because it is a common known fact that a guy and a girl who are friends eventually must sleep together. But guess what? America is going to take her sweet little time figuring out how she feels about Maxon because Harper Collins really wanted to get at least one more book out of this storyline. 

Prince Maxon is a completely unremarkable character. He's handsome, but America never wants to admit that he's handsome. America originally believes him to be stuffy, but lo-and-behold when she actually gets to know him he's, GASP, a nice guy who listens to her opinions about politics in the country?! Say it isn't so!

Oh, Cass tries to make Maxon seem stuffy and educated in comparison to America, but she does a shitty job at it. Here is my favorite quote from the book, the first line of dialogue is Maxon's FYI, hooray for context!

"That is an unfair statement. You are all dear to me. It is simply a matter of discovering who shall be the dearest."

"Did you really just use the word 'shall'?"

He chuckled. "I'm afraid I did. Forgive me, it's a product of my education."

"Education," I muttered, rolling my eyes. "Ridiculous."

Oh no! How dare he use the word "shall" in a sentence? How dare he flaunt his wealth in front of her like that? The nerve of some people.

Then, there are the other girls in the competition to talk about. Firstly, with thirty five contestants we don't really get to know a lot of them. There are a few staples in the cliche line-up: the nice one, the small and weak one, the gossipy one, and the mean ring leader. The mean one, Celeste, is so full of herself and mean she is practically a caricature of every mean girl from high school. But Cass isn't even consistent with the character. Celeste spends most of the book glaring at America from across the room, and then as if Cass decided that Celeste needed some more screen time, there is a rather unbelievable confrontation between the two of them that America never reports because she's the main character and is too good for that or some shit. And of course when America tries to tell Maxon that Celeste is a bitch, he doesn't believe her because he is somehow blind to it all.

The dystopian world this takes place in is beyond unbelievable. There's some shaky caste system that makes little to no sense, and who's origins are never explained. There are some random rebels on the North and South and we never really gather why they are upset. And like all dystopian novels, we immediately get the sense that there is something the government is hiding and one of the rebel groups is after the truth and in one of the future books they will be the good guys, OMG PLOT TWIST. Not to mention that my feminist principals were ruffled when it was made clear that girls have no control over their bodies and that virgins are more valuable then non-virgins. It's actually against the law to sleep with someone before marriage in this book. I wonder if THAT is going to be a problem in book two?!?!?! 

It's been said of The Selection that it is like a combination of The Hunger Games (that comparison is gag worthy) and The Bachelor. It TRIES to be like THG by giving us a reality show format with a sassy show host a'la Ceasar Flickerman, but fails massively. Oh, and there are makeovers with more sassy beauticians who are disappointed that America, who doesn't think she's pretty, is the only one who wants to look "natural" and wouldn't wear any makeup and wanted to wear simple clothing. This also added some kind of tone that if you wear makeup and care about wearing nice clothes that you are lesser, somehow. 

Lastly, the grammar and writing style itself. I think this book was first person present tense. I say think because there were about twenty times (especially in the beginning) where Cass switched to past tense. She didn't seem to understand how to write about something that happened in the past, and then make a seamless transition back to present. It's a rookie mistake that should have never made it past the copy-editors. 

I have mixed feelings about this book, despite all of the sass above. How many times to you go to the movies, buy tickets for a chick flick, and enjoy it even though it technically sucks? Often. It happens often. Chick flicks  (and I hate to use that term, but I can't think of a better one) feature unbelievable characters, obvious set ups, and last minute declarations of love, but we still have fun watching them. So you can imagine my horror when I noticed that I was invested in America's journey because despite all of the horrible things about this book, I still wanted her to win despite it all. I'm not sure if you can call that compelling writing, but it did manage to make me read this book cover to cover in less than 24 hours. 

Verdict: I wouldn't say don't read it, because from a writing and publishing standpoint it is interesting to read and discuss. But for the love of God don't read it and tell me it's amazing. You are blind and naive if you do. 

The Secret Year

The Secret Year 

bu Jennifer R. Hubbard

Colt and Julia were secretly together for a year, and no one ever knew, not even Julia's boyfriend. Why would they-they were from two different crowds. Julia lived in her country club world and Colt . . . didn't. Then Julia dies in a car accident. Colt is devastated but can't mourn openly, and he's tormented that he may have played a part in her death. And when Julia's journal ends up in his hands, he is forced to relive their year together-just when he is trying to forget. The problem is, how do you get over someone who was never really yours to begin with?

(Just a note: this review contains spoilers. Granted, the book is so predictable you could probably figure out every single one on your own, but—ugh.)

Wow. So. Where do I begin?

I cannot remember the last time a book pissed me off as much as this book did. And I don't mean it in the sense that it annoyed me, but that it actually made me angry.

Let me start from the beginning: poor Colt (boring, unlikable) has been "seeing" (aka having all kinds of sex—but don't worry, they use a condom, because even though they're all horrible, selfish people, they don't want to have a baby) this rich girl named Julia (less boring, more unlikable) for a year when she dies in a car accident. Colt can't mourn her because he's scum and she had a hot boyfriend. Julia's brother gives Colt a journal of her really corny poetry and prose about them having sex.

That's it. That's the story.

Honestly, though? Nothing happens in this book. Nothing. There was absolutely no tension, nothing propelling me forward in this novel except for the desire to be able to finish the book and have the basis to write my review off of. The entire novel is basically Colt feeling guilty over something really stupid and having sex with a lot of girls. Oh, and there are some lame, pointless fights between the rich and the poor that were kind of West Side Story-ish, minus ballet. 

The characters in this novel were unbelievable in that I didn't believe one single character for a second. They were all selfish and annoying in their own way, and their motivations made no sense. Like, here's a bunch of hick boys who decide to beat up a rich kid because he's so awful, but it honestly felt like it was thrown in there for the hell of it. It was so, so pointless, and the characters all seemed like cutouts. There's the manipulative rich girl (Julia), the perfect girl who won't love him back (Kirby), the girl best friend who's loved him all along (Syd), the white trash friends (Nick, Paul), the waitress mother, the alcoholic father, the gay brother—I mean, seriously.

Oh, right. The gay brother. Tom's big coming out on Thanksgiving was probably the most cliche, overwrought, unrealistic coming out I've ever read. Period. The entire scene completely demeaned the coming out process because there was no emotion in it whatsoever. Like, hey, here's Tom who's cocky and arrogant and also gay, and here's his parents literally disowning him because they're closed-minded hicks, but they'll get over it, and at least it's a Thanksgiving to Remember! But don't worry, because Colt is okay with it, even though he "[doesn't] see how [Tom] could want to have sex with another guy, but hey, it's his life." 

I've had it wrong all this time. Apparently being a gay man is only about having sex with other guys. Thanks for the helpful insight. Oh, did I also mention his brother was into theater? Yeah. Because everyone who's gay is automatically flamboyant and artsy.

This book is also ridiculous in its views of female sexuality, as Colt is frequently referred to as having "been" with Julia--since the only thing they did was have sex, well. How lucky he was to have "been" with her. Let's not mention how at three points during the novel, one of the girls Colt's just slept with gets all emotional and leaves when he just wants to rest, because sex is hard work, and he's tired. Ah, yes, let the guy lay back while the girl overanalyzes their sexual encounter. That doesn't sound cliche at all.

I think it's clear from this website alone that we're sex positive. Sex isn't a bad thing, and I totally think that that needs to be clearer in young adult literature. Books with sex views like these are not helping the cause. 

Beside the story, I wasn't even into the writing. It was unnecessarily flowery, I couldn't tell one narration from another (Julia's journal entries are interspersed), and--actually, don't even get me started on those damn entries. The writing was supposed to be so sexy, but it honestly read like really bad fan fiction mixed with low-grade erotica. It was not hot at all, it was pretentious, and I spent more time rolling my eyes than caring about their dumb forbidden romance. You know what, though, it wasn't even forbidden. And it wasn't a romance. It was having sex in a car by a bridge. Oh, my heart's so a-flutter.

Not to mention that some basic facts of the novel are just so stupid. Like, Colt and his mother work at a family restaurant. His mom works the 4 to midnight shift. What kind of a family restaurant stays open till midnight? And throughout the entire novel, Colt acts like he feels so horribly guilty over Julia's death, BUT HE DIDN'T EVEN DO ANYTHING. NOTHING AT ALL. HE HAD SEX WITH HER AND WAS A DICK AND THAT WAS IT. At times, Julia's death felt like a device to make it acceptable for Colt to be an asshole. Which he was. Big time. But it still isn't acceptable.

Needless to say, there isn't anyone I could recommend this to. It's a fairly short book, so I guess if you feel like torturing yourself, you can give it a shot, but trust me when I say it's just not worth it. I want my $7.99 back.

THE VERDICT?

The Vespertine

The Vespertine

A Young Adult Novel

By Saundra Mitchell

Expectations: Beyond minimal. I randomly grabbed this book off the shelf at the library, purely because I needed something, anything to read, and I didn’t care what it was. Let me just say, that this is new for me, since I usually have a list of books to read. Alas, I was on waiting lists. I was cautious while starting this book because the last couple times I’ve blindly picked up books at the library they have been atrocious, and I haven’t even bothered to read more than a chapter or two. Also, did I mention that I didn’t even read the book flap? I checked the book out, and started reading it without knowing a thing about it. I fly by the seat of my pants.

From the book flap: The summer of 1889 is the one between childhood and womanhood for Amelia van den Broek—and thankfully, she’s not spending it at home in rural Maine. She’s been sent to Baltimore to stay with her stylish cousin, Zora, who will show her all of the pleasures of city life and help her find a suitable man to marry.

            With diversions ranging from archery in the park to dazzling balls and hints of forbidden romance, Victorian Baltimore is more exciting than Amelia imagined. But her gaiety is interrupted by disturbing, dreamlike visions she has only at sunset-visions that offer glimpses of the future. Soon, friends and strangers alike call on Amelia to hear her prophecies. Newly dubbed “Maine’s Own Mystic,” Amelia is suddenly quite in demand.

            However, her attraction to Nathaniel, an artist who is decidedly outside of Zora’s circle, threatens the new life Amelia is building in Baltimore. This enigmatic young man is keeping secrets of his own—still, Amelia finds herself irrepressibly drawn to him. And while she has no trouble seeing the futures of others, she cannot predict whether Nathaniel will remain in hers.

            When one of her darkest visions comes to pass, Amelia’s world is thrown into chaos. And those around her begin to wonder if she’s not the seer of dark portents, but the cause of them.

            I have very mixed feelings about this book. I wanted to love it, I really did. Instead, I can only say that thought it was okayand was somewhat entertained by it, rather than enthralled. Firstly, Mitchell’s prose is unmatched. Never before have I read a Victorian-era novel that actually felt like a Victorian novel, rather than a modern one. The descriptions were beautiful. The metaphors (which I’m always a sucker for) were enticing. However, I believe that Mitchell’s inclination to this sort of flowery talk made her, probably unwittingly; sacrifice other storytelling necessities on the altar of super-cool-Bronte-styled-descriptions.

            Anyone who has ever worked me with me on anything storytelling related knows that I am majorly into two things: Characters and their motivation. Characters drive a story and their motivation is the vehicle that carries them through. This is something I found majorly lacking. Firstly, I completely forgot the narrator’s name during the book, it was so rarely said. I can’t tell you what hair color Amelia has. I can’t tell you her eye color, her favorite color, her hobbies (besides unwarranted visions, which isn’t so much a hobby but an inconvenience) or a single personal thing that transforms a character into a living being. In fact, it took 150 pages before Amelia bothered to tell us about the fate of her parents at all. Then there is her brother, August. In the brief times we see him, the impression is given that he is a big, fat jerk. And yet, the author decided not to give us any background on him at all. There wasn’t a single childhood memory recounted to the readers. It seems that Mitchell forgot that no character, no real-life person, does things without motivation. Even the craziest serial killer had a life event that pushed him into insanity and murder. So, what was Amelia’s motivation? While I was initially swept away by the beautiful writing I soon noticed that Amelia was incredibly empty.

            Let’s talk about romance. Who doesn’t like to talk about L-O-V-E? Teenagers certainly can’t get their fill of forbidden romances and love-at-first-sight. Well, neither can I, but that’s not the point. If you want to have a forbidden, Victorian romance between a middle-class girl and lower-class artist boy, by all means, go for it. I just think that it is important that you, I don’t know, make them have a real conversation before they profess their love to one another.

            Oh, Amelia and Nathaniel have plenty of encounters. But they spend these encounters gazing into one another’s eyes and making veiled references. Where was the part where they talked about their past (an important part of any character and if I may so, we never learned anything about Nathaniel except that he likes to paint pretty pictures) and their interests? Make no mistake: they fell into infatuation. Personally, I feel incensed when teenagers are being encouraged on every forefront to stroll outside, meet some sexy bad boy, and fall in “love” with him. Bella, I’m looking at you.

            Then there is the paranormal aspect to examine. Mitchell did a good job of picking a particular time period in which Spiritualism was the reigning trend, and therefore Amelia wouldn’t have been declared a witch a ‘la Salem. I find the part where Amelia has her first vision a little hard to swallow. She looks into the sunset and bam! It’s vision time. Surely she’s seen sunsets before, so why was this one different, and every one afterward? There is a sequel to this novel, so maybe these questions get answered, but I highly doubt it. In fact, Amelia didn’t seem interested in discovering the source at all.

            The current year is 2012 and the social customs for dating in this day-and-age are considerably different than they were in 1889. My ignorance of these rules and Mitchell’s elaborate narrative made me lose my bearings during certain moments, especially near the end. As far as I know, the only way a girl can be “shamed” in Victorian era is to have sex before she’s married. I’m sure there are lots of other silly things that could shame a young girl back then. Silly things like wearing your gloves inside out, spilling ink on your dress, or flashing your bare ankle while climbing out of your carriage. But it is important that the readers are not left completely ignorant of social customs. So, in a certain point in this book, I felt that Mitchell just shuffled on past an important social faux pas without explaining the full effect of the action to the readers. Not to mention the fact that random characters seemed to be in trouble for something that I’m not even sure of.

            If you want to read a book that is a pristine example of beautiful imagery, Victorian-era prose, and just plain gorgeous then read this book. If you want to read a book to connect to characters and discover an engaging and relatable romance, skip this one. Although, to my fellow writers, let me encourage you to read this book so that you may be enlightened to the pitfalls to avoid.

Final Thoughts: I would hate to say, “decidedly average” to a book that was so beautifully phrased, but Mitchell’s negligence in necessary-novel-writing-aspects forces me to do so. This had all the potential to be a stunning combination of A Great and Terrible Beauty and The Luxe. Alas, we do not live in a perfect world.

The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer

The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer

by Michelle Hodkin

Mara Dyer doesn’t think life can get any stranger than waking up in a hospital with no memory of how she got there.

It can.

She believes there must be more to the accident she can’t remember that killed her friends and left her mysteriously unharmed.

There is.

She doesn’t believe that after everything she’s been through, she can fall in love.

She’s wrong.

***************

Blech. That describes my general attitude toward this book: Blech. 

First let me say that I had a lot of hope for this book. The premise is intriguing (how did Mara survive a building collapse that killed her three friends, and why can't she remember it?), Mara is snarky (girl after my own heart), the cover is stunning (albeit completely irrelevant to the story), and there's a hot British bad-boy love interest (obligatory swooooon). That has some serious makings for a great story, right?

Well, with just these factors, it is a great story. I absolutely loved the first two-thirds of this book, and was tearing through it. But then, of course, like every trendy YA book, Mara Dyer throws in a paranormal twist. And that's where the book loses it.

Look, I'm a fan of paranormal. Not the biggest fan, but a fan. I think, when done right, it can be damn near genius. (Looking at you, Laini Taylor.) But the paranormal in this book is so choppy and abrupt that it feels like one big gimmick. Not just that, but some supernatural happenings are alluded to in the beginning of the book with a Ouija board, but then is completely dropped until the last one-third of the novel, when the paranormal comes back full force. But here's the thing--It feels like such a cop-out. I'm going to leave it at that, because I don't want to spoil anything, but I found myself sighing and groaning the last third of the book because it was so ridiculous. Like, it wasn't even pleasurable sighing and groaning!

Although I suppose if anyone in this book could spark that kind of pleasure, it'd be Noah, Mara's sexy, smutty love interest. He's a player, he's British, he's loaded, he's the epitome of every single bad boy cliche there is. This isn't necessarily a negative. No, I found Noah to be one of the bright spots in the novel. He's funny and charming, but there's nothing very original about him, and honestly the 350+ pages of "I hate you!" and "No, you love me!" got so. Friggin'. Old. So much of the banter between Noah and Mara, while amusing, was repetitive and totally gratuitous. Like, really? Does Noah need to pretend to be a nude model? No. It's a silly, pointless scene meant to emphasize how oh-so hot Noah is, and how lucky Mara is that he's interested in her.

The secondary characters all fell short as well. Even Mara's brothers, Daniel and Joseph, are complete stock characters -- the quintessential perfect first-born and the super mature twelve year old, respectively. Then there's the evil blonde bitch at school, her gay buddy, the token minority best friend (who is, in this case, black, Jewish, and bi I MEAN REALLY), the overprotective mother, the emotionally absent father. It's kind of like Hodkin watched an episode of True Life on MTV and determined that all teenagers can't fit into these labels, all while wearing Converse sneakers and thinking that that somehow makes them edgy and cool.

The biggest issue with the secondary characters, though, was that Rachel, Mara's supposed absolute best friend who died in the building collapse that Mara survived, isn't characterized. At all. You know how in Twin Peaks, Laura Palmer herself is barely onscreen except for, like, two flashbacks and a few dream sequences, but the watcher still develops this huge connection to her based on the attitudes toward her from the other residents? Well, Rachel is seldom shown "in action" in this book, and Mara primarily just talks about how much she loved her, and how great she was, and blah, blah, blah. Uh, yeah, that's great Mara, but why should I care that she's dead? I couldn't care less that Rachel is dead because I failed to see what was so great about her.

In retrospect, I'm pretty sad I didn't like this book when it could've been so awesome. The plot is convoluted and the character interactions are gratuitous, but you know what? It was the kind of book that angered me to the point where I know I'll end up reading the next book just to see what, if any, resolution there is. Which is annoying, but at the same time, it's what a book series is supposed to do -- you either love it and keep buying books, or you dislike it and keep buying books to frustrate yourself even further.

Bring it on, The Evolution of Mara Dyer. We have unfinished business.

The Verdict?

Welcome Wagon

Hey there!

Welcome to Sassgasm Books, a blog fueled by sass, penis jokes, and the tears of small children. Oh, and some book reviews, I guess.

The three naughty librarians (we're not really librarians) behind this blog are avid readers who also avidly snark the books they read. We even have a glossary! Our goal is to fully expose the books we read for what they are, be it totally orgasmic or kind of cock-block. Slut-shaming, victim-blaming, and silly contrived metaphors will not be tolerated in our literature.

See, we're very passionate people. We read, we write, we read some more, and then we cry because ughhhh writing is sooooo haaaaaard. But we do it all for the love of the game.

So, again: welcome. It's a pleasure having you here.

(Get it? It's a pleasure? Oh, man. That's a knee-slapper right there.)