Blood Rites made me
seriously wonder if Jim Butcher has ever spoken to a female without her running
screaming in the opposite direction.
No, seriously, I actually wondered.
This book took every criticism I had for the previous books,
and made them a thousand times worse. Rampant sexism and one-dimensionality to
female characters? Check. Gratuitously lecherous inner dialogue? Check.
Unbelievable action scenes and save the day heroics? Check. Inability to write
a conversation that sounds even one iota like something you'd overhear in real
life? Check. Cliches at every turn? Check.
I could go on, but I won't. I knew I wasn't going to like
this book as soon as the porn aspect was introduced. Not because I have any problems
reading stories that center around that setting, but because I knew that
Butcher was going to turn into a drooling hornball forcing Harry to live out
his own fantasy involving oogling attractive women and being heroic. Ew.
I think the reason I might be so incredibly frustrated with
this book mainly stems from the potential. Butcher has created a great concept,
a great world, and a logical premise for magic. He really did a fantastic job
with that. I just wish he could have handed the reins over and let someone else
actually write the books. I admit, I like some of Dresden's
one liners. They're cute and catchy- but they're also incredibly unbelievably.
Throw one in during a conversation, but don't pepper each line with them!
Thinking about this book really frustrates me. I know, I
just know that I can't stop with this one, I'm going to have
to read until the end (or there's no doubt in my mind that Butcher is getting
his rocks off with every single scene. I think it might have been every other
scene in this book, but I digress). I keep hearing about how Butcher's writing
gets better and better, and I'm beginning to suspect that really, the reader is
getting more and more accustomed to his bad writing habits.
(1/5 stars)
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