This woman has become one of the most successful writers of fiction of the past decade despite never displaying a discernible sliver of talent. Fair enough, but let’s not pretend your own curiosity didn’t get the better of you too. I’m sure some of you will be wondering why I bothered to read it in the first place, or consider it an exercise in bad faith for me to review something that I clearly knew I wouldn’t like or think was any good to begin with. You did not need me to confirm your preconceptions on this topic. Look, The Mister is bad, but you knew that before you clicked on this review. Then I actually eat it and it’s gross and it sits in my guts for hours weighing me down with queasiness and exhaustion and that futile feeling of knowing that once again I’ve gone against my better judgment and wasted my time.ĭid I mention that I read E.L.
Not a good one but at least something digestible. Sure, I’ve yet to be proven wrong on that front, but it can’t get any worse, and maybe by some turn of luck I’ll get an okay meal. Yet every now and then I go in anyway, cursed with hopeless optimism that maybe this time it won’t be so awful. So there’s this noodle place in the main shopping centre of the town I live in.
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