Every so often, I give you some names of books I'm reading and recommend; I tend to avoid badmouthing books - or at least badmouthing books I'll actually name because well, gosh, well, you know, um, maybe someone will like a book I'll badmouth and I don't want to come across as slamming someone's taste.

Today was a banner bad day for books received Chez Roscoe. A package came from an editor, someone I really respect even if our tastes don't always mesh. Okay, almost NEVER mesh. Okay to be honest, she edited a book I really loved and since then, nothing else has worked.

But by any standards, today was a bit of a shock. I wasn’t sure about one book – it was in a series I had tried to read and had not liked but that was what like five books ago. The other two were completely new, but well….

Okay, book one. The series book. It’s a second series for an author whose first series I never liked. I tried, briefly, the first book in series #2 and it didn’t work back then. But this is already book eight; tastes change, I change, writing changes.

I lasted less than two pages. Between rudeness, a total slob character (a characteristic that I don’t get as having any sort of appeal – I mean we’re not talking “not neat” we’re talking someone clad in something that is both covered in food stains and cigarette burns – yeuchh), unfunny dialogue and a little old lady who apparently is meant to be amusing, I was not sold. Put aside. Picked it up later thinking well but maybe….another two pages of unfunny confrontation, more rudeness, and about four more people I didn’t like and it went in the “no way” stack.

Book two. I’m not a fan of “CSI”. I’m not a fan of Scarpetta or Kathy Reichs or the science of forensic anything. I’m very squeamish. I don’t want to know details about autopsies or to hear about maggots or decomposition. Other readers can handle that. I cannot and do not wish to learn. Therefore book two and I were not going to hit it off when it started with a literal description of decomposition and went from there. The book blurb mentions bizarre mutilation. Onto the pile IT goes as well. Buh-bye.

Book three. Started in a way I hate – no not the prologue where the victim turns, says “oh, it’s you!” and suddenly everything goes black. No, instead it’s the one where the creepy gross psycho weird killer is reminiscing or writing a lovingly detailed memoir of his obsessive amoral, twisted analysis* or something about creepy gross psycho shit that I don’t want to know about. Get past that and see if there’s anything there. The next several pages are at least interesting and different; a new-ish idea at least. But at the end of page 26, where we’ve had another bit of writing by the CGP etc. killer, there was a sentence that so offended me that I was almost queasy. And it stuck in my brain for some hours and if I have fucking nightmares tonight, I blame this book because it was sickening, disgusting, revolting and I don’t want to know. (*really honest – I don’t make this stuff up, you know.)

I’m spending the next few hours reading the very very interesting biography I’m reading right now. immersed in fluffy bunny books or something. At the moment, “something” may be a book Stu requested from the library entitled The 13 ½ LIVES OF CAPTAIN BLUEBEAR an extraordinarily silly-seeming book (so far as I thumbed through it last night) which has as it’s opening quote (epigram? Is that right?)

“Life is too precious to be left to chance”.

Deus X. Machina


(how can you not want to read that book, huh?)