OK, I bought this book from an online publishing house called http://blastedheath.com/
I liked that that the company was bypassing the traditional publishing system to get new writers out there. I looked at a few of their books and decided on this one because it wasn't crime, wasn't set in the grim bad-lands of Glasgow and it didn't have heroin ravaged, beaten up faces on the ebook cover. (This being their kind of stock fiction). I haven't checked the site in the last few weeks and would rather not...but maybe things have lightened up!
I'm glad it only cost 99p because this book had no plot, no direction and was dull. Today I made the big decision to stop reading it and move on. just sitting doing nothing on my train journey to Oxford was more interesting than reading this. It wasn't like a novel at all just a diatribe based on how much the 'author' knew about films.
There was the odd funny line in the book but ultimately I can't even begin to tell you what the hell this book was about. It was like an abandoned buoy, just floating in the ocean. The premise was good ( a guy who is transported into the movies whenever he sits in the 7 th row) but by 80 percent through the book I just couldn't take any more. I tried, I really tried to stick it out. But I just wish he had just got permenantly stuck in some 70s horror movie and never came out again. I sure felt like I was stuck in a shite movie though and this morning I had the great pleasure of deleting this from my kindle.
Posted on 17.02.12 on posterous.com
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