Tomato Rhapsody by Adam Schell
After having read this, I am left with nothing but a profound sense of loss. As if millions(alright, maybe dozens) of my brain cells cried out at once, and were suddenly silenced.
It’s just so… bad.
Let me see if I can explain why. But before I start this review in earnest, allow me a moment to discuss with you this paper I read once by Professor Fukital who wrote that eminent treatise on reviews and the art of reviewing titled “You write like crap and your shits all retarded”. In it, he postulates that when one reviews a bad book, one should strive to be clear on exactly what it is about the book that sucks.
So I’ll do my best to be clear.
It’s so full of bad that it’s ready to burst. Like maybe an overripe tomato. Or apparently like the bladder of an eggplant colored Tuscan priest the morning after he’s consumed two bottles of wine which, for some reason, don’t make him drunk because he’s special. Or maybe it’s like some other damned vegetable that has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with the story itself but we’ll still spend an inordinate amount of time discussing it in great detail along with the various ways it can be prepared for eating.
But I digress.
The story here, what little of it there is, is trite and boring with not a single character being anything more than a flat piece of set dressing. The over-flowery and over descriptive prose is annoying and seemed to only be present to either display the authors supposed skill at wordsmithing or to pad the word count itself. And the rhyming, my god the rhyming! It’s as if someone gave Dr Seuss a tomato enema then took the resulting mess and splattered it onto a page.
This sad, sad book is just full of things that made my brain wish to rebel and plot my own demise. From the donkey dicks, to the vomit eating, from the miraculous curing of blindness and hemorrhoids to the horrible rhyming, from the random use of italian to the tomato sauce sex scene… it’s all just so, so bad.
If I could give this a negative rating I would.
Don’t read this. You’ll be sorry if you do.
One sauceless limp noodle of a star.