I was 186 pages into
Brock Clarke's An Arsonist's Guide to Writers' Homes in New England when I realized that I wasn't going to start liking the frustratingly idiotic and annoying narrator, a moron of a man who had accidentally burned down Emily Dickinson's house as a teenager and then done every possible thing wrong since then. I was mildly interested in finding out his parents' secrets but not enough to keep reading. My instincts were right; I skipped ahead and read the last chapter and knew I would have absolutely hated this book.
1 comment:
Agreed. I paid full price for this book after reading all the glowing reviews, and eventually just gave up. When non-funny reviewers go on and on about how hilarious a book is, it usually isn't.
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