|Bombing Coral Island
||[Apr. 3rd, 2006|10:14 pm]
I promise it'll be the best book you ever read. It was nice meeting you.
Darci handed me this book saying that one of the guests left it for me when they checked out. The Perks of Being a Wallflower By Stephen Chbosky. With eight hours of essentially nothing to do and jack shit going on, I decided to crack open the cover and test the hypothesis that this book will be the best I will ever read.
Five hours later, I closed the book and rejected the null hypothesis. Damn, did I hate this book. No, really, not only did I not like this book, I downright almost wanted to upchuck the memory that I read this book. I wanted to walk right up to Charlie, the main character in the book, and bitch slap him until he cried for the twenty-eighth time. And I don't care that he's got psychological issues and can fuck people up, I can still break this punk in two and eat him for breakfast.
I hate this book so much, I'm going to destroy it. No, not burn it or shred it or anything, that wouldn't do anything to an apparent New York Best Seller with hundreds of thousands in print, and I don't want to attempt a book hunt Lullaby/Palahniuk style since I'm poor and have better shit to do. Naw, I'm gonna parody this book, Lord of the Flies -style. Hey, Golding turned Coral Island from a Victorian egotist's fanboy dream into a nightmare of man's own design; I think I can turn Chbosky's weenie high school emo experience into a weeny high school emo nightmare.
Then again, Golding was a gifted writer. I'm gifted in eating chicken. But I can still try.