Ray > Recent Status Updates

Mega-DNF'ing on page freaking ZERO because I am D-O-N-E with stupid vane insipid fake dating plots, at least for this year.

...before the narrative even starts we have a page from the author about how much the TikTok ban (that obviously never came to pass anyway) would suck and I'm like, getting the hardest kick in the crotch physically possible right now is still better than this.

And I mean...tbh I don't even care if TikTok is banned or not but still.

...so this was written by an adult?

...ok fine I'll read it.....

...and yeah yeah I know one of the books I just read (not saying which one for sake of spoilers) has a closeted relationship in it, but 1) I didn't know until I was knee-deep in it, ok? and 2) meh whatever

DNF'ing on literally the freaking back cover blurb. Are queer Latinx authors just only capable of writing stories where the mains are forcibly closeted?

Eff this.

DNF'ing on page 2> because I'm sick and tired of queer people being closeted. Look, I know it's a lived experience for a lot of people but I'm sick and tired of stories where people aren't free to be themselves.

DNF at (Angry Joe style) ZERO! [expletive deleted] ZERO PAGES! The two Doyle books I read were super-mid and if you think I'm reading Irish fiction about the Pandemic starting with some sods debating masks you've got another thing coming, namely, me bashing you with the book until only one of us is standing.

So I picked this up randomly from the new releases shelf hoping for the best but expecting the worst - but seeing it as a debut novel and a Goodreads reading challenge pick really cements it as really just, be prepared for the worst.

"Varya is thirteen. New to her are three more inches of height and the dark patch of fur between her legs. Her breasts are palm sized, her nipples pink dimes."

Literally first paragraph of the whole book.

Why do women write like they're actually creepy Boomer guys?

Two whole whopping pages in and I want S to whack Lady square in the head with a ballpeen hammer.

The barely incoherent ramblings of a pretentious type, the type exactly poked fun of in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf, the type who probably feigned being drunk while writing this because well literary geniuses always write drunk, right?

chapter 11