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This book isn't getting one star from me on the basis of its fabrication- it's getting one star from me on the basis that it is absolute codswallop. The machismo bollocks that permeates every line of this thing is about as frustrating as it can get, and there's not a lot to be said for the healing power of love at first sight or any of the 'special' traits that the author apparently shows that makes him 'special' and 'worth saving'. The fact that he constantly harps on about his 'mind powers' gets very tired very quickly, and honestly does more harm than good- to poo-poo the journeys of so many people facing addiction who have found help through AA and the Twelve Steps with how strong you are on the basis of using only your brain is senseless and does very little to help people recover. Also, how many truncated sentences can one man use? This is like an exercise in juvenile slam poetry, but where the topic is only how much this guy loves himself.
As for the fact that the whole thing was fairly well wildly made up, I fail to see how that could not have been picked up on sooner. There's absolutely nothing here that brings plausibility in the wake of the dental appointment, and I wish I could just walk up to a Mafioso and have him declare that I'm the son he never had just because I seem special. It's rather odd too how the bulk of these characters conveniently die, somewhat as a cautionary tale I presume, but also as a convenient removal of loose ends. I'm not saying it reeks of fakery...I'm saying it stinks of it. Not something I can even see should've been picked for Oprah's Book Club in any fashion, but if you're going to say no to 'My Dark Vanessa' and yes to 'American Dirt', I think the taste levels already need querying anyway.
As for the fact that the whole thing was fairly well wildly made up, I fail to see how that could not have been picked up on sooner. There's absolutely nothing here that brings plausibility in the wake of the dental appointment, and I wish I could just walk up to a Mafioso and have him declare that I'm the son he never had just because I seem special. It's rather odd too how the bulk of these characters conveniently die, somewhat as a cautionary tale I presume, but also as a convenient removal of loose ends. I'm not saying it reeks of fakery...I'm saying it stinks of it. Not something I can even see should've been picked for Oprah's Book Club in any fashion, but if you're going to say no to 'My Dark Vanessa' and yes to 'American Dirt', I think the taste levels already need querying anyway.