Guys, I just reviewed the next chapter of Caress of Twilight ahead of time, and...uh...it kind of made me not want to exist anymore. There is so much wrong in it, on every level you can possibly imagine, that I would have skipped it out of consideration for you guys if I did not feel that not reviewing it, given that I am who and what I am, would be as bad as a German ignoring the Holocaust.
In plain English, I feel like I just read something that every white person, everywhere, should apologize for allowing to exist.
If anybody in western civilization had any kind of conscience, we would have piled all these books into a giant mound and set a nuclear bomb off on top of the pile.
I'm not kidding. I'm not trying to employ hyperbole. I'm not playing this whole social justice circle jerk "find the subtext" game that the internet is in love with right now. I am dead fucking serious.
Laurel K. Hamilton should never publish anything else, ever again. She is a rancid, awful waste of oxygen. She has no redeeming qualities whatsoever. The fact that she is still getting paid to put words onto paper should be prosecuted as a fucking hate crime.
If I feel better about this in the morning, if I feel any regret for calling a published author who is better than I am at the mechanics of writing a waste of valuable organs, skin and space, it is an indication that I fail as a basic human being.
You guys have no idea. None whatsoever.
I'm going to go find something nice to look at for a while so that I don't dream about this shit.