“Because I decided to troll a guy on Goodreads for fun a few minutes ago (don’t worry, it was minor. He used the word “obola” and I pretended like I didn’t know what that was) I couldn’t help but consider poking around and trolling some other people. Evil is so tempting. Soooooo tempting. It’s delicious. Like an ice cream drink that’s just starting to melt.
I came back across this book because man, I remembered hating it a lot. And also being frustrated because I felt like people were talking about it so much.
Let’s get something straight. I LIKE super sad stories. I LOVE them. I’m not one of the dum-dums who reviewed this book negatively because it was depressing and sad and made me feel things. I mean, if you read this and were disappointed that it was sad…what the fuck?
I didn’t feel a thing when I read this book. It felt kinda slapped together, you know? The future-y stuff was boring and seemed purposeless, the idea that people use their phones instead of talking to each other felt pretty dated even at this time, and though it’s TRUE I think you have to do more than point it out, and I felt like this book was just some guy kinda…well, to use the terminology I spent four years studying, it felt like he was just jacking off. And while I don’t mind a nice jacking off book, while a self-reflective book can be just fine, and while I don’t even mind the times I lean in closer and the ejaculate strikes me in the face, what I DO mind is when I feel that the author now feels superior to me because I trusted him to jack off in my face and still respect me on some level. That we could chat or cuddle after. Just because I followed him on his jackoff journey, boarded the Stroke-Thirty Express to Beatoffton, that doesn’t mean it’s okay to treat me like an idiot.
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