(no subject)

[quigonejinn]

Dear God. The storytelling in the book is as disciplined as a freshman girl in Cancun for spring break -- so much drunken POV hookups forgotten the next morning, so many wet rambling monologue contests, and hey, how about another stand at the POV keg? There was even an ill-advised appearance on the Girls Gone Wild/superobvious Freudian stage, what with mama rubbing the snake's head and Alexander humping mama's bare body while daddy gets naked, flashbacks extra free.

I mean. It was fucking great in some places. See all the places above where I screamed. See, too, when I had to throw down the book and run around the apartment because omg Hephaestion swapping pillows with Alexander because akdj;lgkdjfadf omg Renault, you write sappy gay martial devotion in a way that makes me squeal like a pig. But I now understand why two_if_by_sea couldn't make it through the first part of the book.

Stick to the first person, Mary. It'll not only keep you from getting the world's worse of crotch itch, but you'll probably also end up writing a book that's actually, you know. A book. And not just 400 pages of writerly indulgence.



In other news, I'm going to be (mostly) out of commission for the next week or so while the laptop is off in the shop. Again. Because I am awful hard on my computers.