I’m trying to read “Tangled” by Emma Chase. It’s not easy. I have to force myself not to roll my eyes every few seconds or so. Have you ever tried reading while rolling your eyes? It’s bloody hard!
The story is not too bad. At least I don’t think it is. I’m only at page twenty-seven. It’s the writing that’s driving me crazy. Emma Chase is using first person narration for this book. The story is told by Drew Evans, the MVP partner at one of the top investment banks in New York City. The dashing Mr. Evans makes multi-million dollar business deals by day, and seduces New York’s most beautiful women with just a smile by night … or any other time the need arises.
Drew is supposedly completely uninhibited. He tells exactly what’s on his mind, politically correctness, respect for other human beings, or any other such foolish notions be darned. I have no problem whatsoever with what he says. If this really is an accurate insight into the “complicated workings of the male thought process” then bring it on. I’m curious!
An author should always feel free to be truthful in her writing. If the hero has the dirtiest, nastiest mind and character out there, then let me know about it. Don’t hold things back. It’s my choice whether to dislike him or be in awe of the wretched scoundrel. It’s my choice whether to read the story or not. But it’s the author’s … responsibility … I would think, to write an authentic story.
So, I don’t mind what Drew says. My problem is with how he says it. I can’t picture a successful, attractive, smart, self-confident man talking like a drama queen. Because that’s what his speech, choice of words, and antics make me think of: an overly dramatic, immature person. How do I know? It’s easy. It takes being a drama queen to know one!
Let me give you an example:
- This sounds like something a professionally successful, self-indulgent, hasn’t-met-his-match-yet Don Juan might say:
“For those ladies out there who are listening, let me give you some free advice: If a guy who you just met a club calls you baby, sweetheart, angel, or any other generic endearment, don’t make the mistake of thinking he’s so into you, he’s already thinking up pet names.
It’s because he can’t or doesn’t care to remember your actual name.
And no girl wants to be called by the wrong name when she’s on her knees [doing you-know-what for the guy] in the men’s room. So, just to be safe, I went with baby.”
Fair enough. Don Juan wants his fun. Who doesn’t?
- What comes next does not sound like something our Don Juan would say or do. It doesn’t even sound like something his love struck teenage brother would say or do:
I don’t answer her. I don’t have the energy. I just leave the door open and fall face-first onto my couch. It’s soft and warm, but firm.
“I love you, couch – have I ever told you that? Well, I’m telling you now.”
Here’s how Drew reacts to his sister’s request to go and take a shower.
I shrug and get up to do as she says. Like a four-year-old with his wooby, I bring my prized pillow with me.
I might be wrong though. I have never actually met any real life Drew Evans types yet. Maybe they do love soft, warm, but firm couches and feel the need to profess those feelings. Or maybe they do have prized pillows that give them much needed emotional comfort. Who am I to say?
Despite the slow read, I’ll try to finish the story. I’m curious to see if Drew grows up. And I’m curious to see if my curiosity will last long enough to get me through the book. I’m also curious to find out if I’m curious enough to let my curiosity get me to finish this darn book.
Lastly, I’m curious how many people think I’m a complete idiot. Please don’t answer that! Especially if you are an Emma Chase fan!
P.S. I guess I’m not going to ask Emma Chase to review my first book. The one I haven’t written yet. Because it’s much easier to criticize another author’s work then to write your own mediocre story.
I’m going back to that story now. I’m dealing with a major crisis here. My hero just failed to close a multi-million dollar deal and can’t find his pink fluffy pillow to cry into. Don’t worry. I’ve just had an idea for how to make him feel all better. A warm pair of fuzzy purple slippers and freshly baked chocolate chip cookies are in his future.
P.P.S. I am a complete idiot. No doubt about it! All joking aside, critiquing other people’s work is a lot of fun. The big problem is that I don’t know how to do it in a tactful way. That wouldn’t bother me too much if not for the proven fact that what goes around, comes around. I’d better improve my manners. Otherwise, I’ll be needing soft, but firm couches and prized pillows pretty soon myself, when people start ripping apart my own stories.