Hi all!

 

So, I figured as well as my witty writing journey, I could also expose you all to my opinions of books.

You can stop reading now.

Seriously, this is your last chance.

I won’t be held accountable for any disagreements you have with my opinions. In fact, opinions are kind of like arses. Every has one, and the majority of them stink. Mines may well be included in that pile.

Back to the review! As one of my ongoing projects is a humorous, chick-lit piece named The Inflatable Husband, I wanted to read other titles which are similar to get a feel for the market.

Smart, huh?

My reading of choice this week was Thirty-Two Going on Spinster by Becky Monson.

For some perspective, this book has a pretty good 4.3 out of 5 stars overall on Kindle with over 100 reviews plus a grand total of 626 views on Amazon. Pretty darn good I’d say. Glowing feedback, which included quotes like “This is true Chick Lit… relatable, quirky, and downright hilarious” and “Once you start reading you won’t be able to put it down!”

Well, luckily for my toddler and pups who were hungry and required attention throughout the day, I was able to pry it from my hands. But, overall, I did enjoy the book. It was a nice read.

Very nice.

Good.

Sweet, romantic.

Bit placid for my taste perhaps?

Anyone who has read my What is it With Fifty Shades? blog will know that I did a bit of digging in that genre, and I think it may have warped my mind.

Nice, sweet, happy books just aren’t it for me anymore. I had similar feelings after finishing one of the top selling Kindle books called The Keeper of Lost Things recently as well – it was nice.

But where’s the grit?

The action, the plot twists, the sex… all missing! It was all very ‘then they kissed intensely and the curtain came down…’, am I now programmed to respond only to smut?

Lord help me.

I liked the protagonist in the book, Julia. She was an incredibly relatable woman with lots of issues, namely self-esteem and motivation and her brain went through thought processes not in an entirely dissimilar way from my own. Her stagnant life needed a shake up, and it came in the form of a hunky man of course.

Not because women need men to save them, before the feminists begin their hate campaign, but because it is a romance novel. It’s chick lit. It’s candy floss literature for anyone over the age of about twenty.

Hey, I like candy floss, it’s nice, and I like the book.

But the big, dramatic twist I saw coming at least twelve chapters before poor Julia did, and I found that some parts became a little safe and predictable. But still, very nice.

I feel like me saying the book was nice is now becoming an insult.

Here’s what it showed me: I like the way I am writing The Inflatable Husband. It is definitely chick lit, there are definitely similarities between my character, Emma and Monson’s Julia, but I like the extra dirt I have. I enjoy the rude humour, the sexy bits, the extra grit that I am trying to get in my novel – it’s what I like to read.

Now, all I have to hope is that all you fabulous people will love it too. Cause I don’t know if I can do candy floss. I could try… but I reckon a sweet first kiss on a picnic blanket would accidentally escalate to steaminess under said blanket if I was left to work my create genius…

So, to summarise. If you enjoy books like Bridget Jones, Chocolate Kisses, The Devil Wears Prada or just anything by Sophie Kinsella, read it. I bet you’ll quite like it.

But read my book too, when it’s out!

 

Xo