Done, with a couple of things

Okay, A-kon is water under the bridge. Wowza, that one was not easy. My lady love was in charge of the Artist Alley and all its inherent drama, so her number one minion, Alex, and I got to set up and run her booth. We had invaluable help from some friends, but even then it was work. The con was in a new hotel this year, and finding parking was a royal clusterfuck. We supposedly got the right to park at the hotel that we were staying at, but they didn't have enough parking for all the people they rented rooms to, so we ended up having to pay to park at the bigger hotel across the street, and walk over there each morning.

Since none of the usual distractions were available, I was able to catch up on some reading. I got through a couple of stories of the issue of Glimmer Train that I picked up a while back, as well as check out an old issue of Rue Morgue that's been collecting dust in a bag. I also was finally able to finish Lionel Shriver's 'We Need To Talk About Kevin.'

First, this is going to be a negative review. I really really doubt I'm ever going to read any of Mz. Shriver's (she changed her name) stories again. But it's the reason why I'm not going to that I think is important. This is a very well-written book, with solid, well-developed and mostly believable characters. Mz. Shriver has a lot of valid points to make, and she makes them with hard, solid truths.

But finishing that book was like using a dremel tool on my own teeth. A few months ago I read the preview on Amazon, and got intrigued by the concept. Having a Kindle means a bit of instant gratification is (nearly) always within reach, so a couple of clicks and a bit of money later, I had the book. Right when I started reading it, I got that old warning sign of 'just let me get through this one part and then it will get interesting.' Too many times I've pushed through a movie or story with that hope only to turn a page or come to a scene and there's THE END.

There was absolutely no joy in reading this book. It wasn't fun, it was work. Now, that could be because I just don't speak the same literary language as Mz. Shriver, because I picked up the book with my own feelings about the subject matter somehow already well-established in my own head, or because I don't agree with what the author was trying to say. But even if all of that were true, I can usually find some connection with a story. With this, there was nothing.

I went back and reread the post I put up when I was halfway done, and aside from the happiness of being finished, my feelings are exactly the same now as they were then. The characters are all well-established, but they're cartoons. The only parts of them that are believable are their negative traits. Let me be clear on that: I didn't like ANYONE in this book. If I wake up one morning and find myself living in the world of this book, I will steal a car, then go drive a hundred miles an hour on the wrong side of residential streets. I'll get away with it, too, because everyone in this world is fucking blind.

Still writing, and now I have another example of how I do not want my books to turn out.