I’ve had the misfortune of reading many dull books, but I think this might take the crown. From the very first sentence on, this book is nothing but dull. There’s a curse that never lands anything other than being silly. (“It’s an old form of paganism.” Yeah, that sloppy.) There’s never any tension, never anything ominous. It’s all dull as fuck. Two murders happen, and they’re so painfully dull, I don’t think one could ever be worse than the other, because that’d make one better, and “good” is not an adjective that belongs anywhere near this waste of time. There are never any real stakes, the writing is amateurish at best, and the conversations are laughably inorganic. Makes me doubt some writers have ever had conversations themselves.

As if not enough, constant namedropping (Tinder, Netflix, Gatorade, Reddit…) dates and cheapens this story all the more. I was wondering why no editor felt the need to intervene, but apparently this was self-published, in which case I’m sorry that the writer doesn’t have any honest people around. I was so hyped for this book, I’m still not over the shock that this is the dullest thing ever written — yes, duller than romance even!

Oh and… Make it illegal for men to write women! This was a cringe-fest, I’d say “when it wasn’t a snooze-fest” but my God, it never stopped being a snooze-fest!