Deborah Markus’s Reviews > Helene Hanff: A Life > Status Update

Stick a fork in me, I'm done. Review to come, as soon as I can suppress my gag reflex long enough to do the job right.

Almost everybody started clapping, almost everybody but one little lady, aunt Betty, who stood up and shouted: "A woman! President of a political club!!!!????"

I'm almost through torturing you guys. Just had to share the awesomeness of ghastly punctuation. (Srsly, this book has everything!)

How was it that so much could be happening in a person's life, Helene began thinking, and still a person felt so little. I need inspiration, and tucked her arm in Simon's as they walked down Greenwich Avenue inspiration and a new place to live.

Yet another contender for Baddest Sentence Ever! This guy's a lock!

(And this book, in case I haven't made it clear, is a train wreck. Save yourselves.)

As steam rose from the tub, Helene unrolled each of her silk stockings, laying them carefully across the stool beside the sink.

Lower down, same page:

Helene tossed her towel aside and slipped on a pair of panties, buttoning them at the waist. She then secured her bra.

What's with all the BOW CHICKA BOW WOW? Did this guy suddenly realize he can't write a biography, so maybe he'd try lame porn?

Maxine had a four hour break, since they were working on a scene that did not incSo, she had hoped Helene would be available for a late lunch.

Sic.

You can forget to proofread your self-published work, which is bad. You can refuse to do so, which is worse.

Or you can do what this guy did, and brag right on your page that you don't need no stinking proofreader. Which is just weird.

The idea of being a number cruncher for the rest of her life made her want to throw up a little in her mouth.

Another shining example of this author's elegant prose. (Hey, at least you can diagram this sentence without throwing your back out.)

This book doesn't just give self-publishing a bad name. This book gives the English language a bad name. Heck, I'm embarrassed to share an alphabet with this author.

Always with an eye for the ladies, her striking slim figure and long jet black hair done up in a fashionable "French twist," Miriam caught his rapt attention.

DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW ENGLISH WORKS, SIR?

"The Dahli Lama." Yes. That's what he's called.

SIGH.

The sad part is, I'm not even quoting every huge spelling, punctuation, or grammar error he makes. I'm not even quoting most of them.

I mentioned this book is bad, right? I think I mentioned that.

This book started off as an interesting enough read that I didn't mind the frequent errors and mediocre writing. It has since plunged into the realms of the egregiously awful.

I want to meet the author in person so I can spank him with his own work, yelling, "BAD BOOK! BAD!"