Hey guys. Today’s spork will be a little more laid-back, since I’m tired today. I’ll still mock everything mercilessly, so don’t worry about that. Also, I’ll add some gifs into the mix, just for some extra fun times.

Halloween is just a few days away and I’m still working on the final touches for my costume.

Haven’s going as a vampire (duh), Miles is going as a pirate, but that’s only after I talked him out of going as Madonna in her cone-breast phase, and I’m not telling what I’m going as.

I’ve just realised something; this book reads like a teenage (or tweenage) girl’s diary. Really. The whole overflowing descriptions of this supposedly hot guy and the stereotyped views on all her friends… it’s a typical, Hollywood-movie-based teen girl’s diary. IT ALL MAKES SO MUCH SENSE NOW. Why didn’t I realise this before? God, I’m an idiot. Hopefully, this will all end up very nicely and she’ll tell us that she had always meant to write that way and- sigh it won’t happen, will it? Also:

I talked him out of going as Madonna in her cone-breast phase,

WE GET IT. HE IS GAY. STOP IT. STOP REMINDING US. WE ARE NOT GOLDFISH.

Oh, and apparently the afterlife also has Tivo. I don’t know what that is. But it doesn’t seem like it should be there after you’re dead. Riley mentions it. Something tells me that the spin off series with Riley will be just as annoying.

As you’ve probably seen from the aforementioned excerpt of the book, Ever doesn’t want to tell us what she’s going as on Halloween. Which is perfectly fine with me. I don’t give a fuck. Do any of you? Didn’t think so. I can live without knowing what her costume is. No worries.

I roll my eyes and sigh. “You know I don’t have a boyfriend,”

I’ve got to be honest here. I rolled my eyes and sighed too. This girl is just too ignorant for her own good.

He-he was just some new kid, who at first I thought was kind of cute, but then, when I realized what a total player he is, well, let’s just say that I’m over it. In fact, I don’t even think he’s cute anymore. Seriously, it lasted like ten seconds, but only because I didn’t know any better.

Now if only all of this crap was actually meaningful. What I mean by that is this: none of this, nothing here, seems at all realistic at all. No emotional connection between the reader and the characters, reducing all dialogue and exposition into a bunch of empty words. All this angst that we see? Nothing special. Just your average, run-of-the-mill teenage moodiness. I’m like that everyday at about six in the evening. At least I’m consistent, which is more than I can say for this character.

We then get this big wall of text which badly describes how good the Halloween decorations made the house look. I’m not going to include it because it’s just so big, but it’s written really badly. A twelve-year-old’s English assignment-level badly. Everything she wrote makes sense, but the way it’s written just sounds amateurish:

And oh yeah, we placed a life-sized grim reaper out on the front lawn.

And oh yeah. I just don’t know anymore, guys. I just don’t.

Then we get another few paragraphs of outfit description which is rather jarring and annoying to read. We don’t need detail. Stuff like this:

the beautiful black gown with the low square neckline, the sheer three-quarter Iength sleeves, and the super tight bodice that swells into shiny, loose folds-just like the one Marie Antoinette wore to the masked ball (well, as portrayed by Kirsten Dunst in the movie).

It’s not necessary.

And when my costume’s complete I stand before my mirror twirling and spinning and smiling as my shiny black dress sways all around, and I’m thrilled with how good it turned out.

That’s a horrifically written sentence. Twirling and spinning and smiling. Has Noël never heard of a comma between adjectives? It’s not just between clauses of sentences

and bippidy-blah-blah.

Second time Riley’s said this, and it’s already pissing me off a bit. I don’t want to spork her series, because I know it’ll be more irritating than this one.

I start to reach for her, but my hands fumble at my sides. I guess I’m so used to having her around that I sometimes forget how she’s not really here, how she’s no longer part of this world, and how she’ll never grow any older, never get the chance to be thirteen. And then I remember how it’s all my fault to begin with, and I feel a million times worse.

You know, this book would be a lot more interesting if it turned out that she really did kill her family and that memory had just been repressed. I would read this book properly if that happened. But until then, or until somebody actually writes a halfway decent YA novel that I can find, this narrator is just wangsting for no reason because THERE IS NO FUCKING EVIDENCE THAT SHE KILLED HER FAMILY.

Haven describes Damen to her friend Evangeline, and Evangeline says the best line in the book so far:

Evangeline raises her brows. “Sounds like he is an illusion. No one’s that perfect.”

Evangeline, get the fuck out of this book right now. You are too good for them.

After a few sentences of nothing happening, the doorbell rings and:

when I open the door I forget to gloat, because Damen is there. Flowers in one hand, gold tipped hat in the other, with his hair gathered into a low ponytail, his usual sleek black clothes replaced with a frilly white shirt, a coat with gold buttons, and what can only be described as breeches, tights, and pointy black shoes.

Yeah. Even though he wasn’t invited, even though Ever didn’t want him there, the asshat showed up anyway. Good God. His explanation?

But he just smiles and hands me the flowers. “Then it must be a lucky coincidence.”

Shut the fuck up and walk right back out that door, you dick. She doesn’t want you here. Well, maybe she does, but that doesn’t mean you can waltz over and hijack the story. Get a move on.

Haven: “I mean, it’s not your fault you’re smart and pretty and guys are always going to like you better than me.”

The amount of fail in this sentence…

It’s a Sue, and we all know it.

She gazes across the room

Not after I pluck out her eyes, she won’t.

The doorbell rings again, and this time, we have a psychic! How interesting. She can see Riley.

The chapter ends, and I’m glad it did.

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Comment

  1. The Smith of Lie on 26 July 2014, 07:17 said:

    […]Miles is going as a pirate[…]

    Ah, but is he tall and snide and slim? And does he look like gay captain Morgan?

    Yes, that joke is bad and I should feel bad. But considering how one recent chapters was covering vampire club it just fit so well…

  2. Epke on 26 July 2014, 11:57 said:

    Miles is gay?!? NO WAY!
    _

    the beautiful black gown with the low square neckline, the sheer three-quarter Iength sleeves, and the super tight bodice that swells into shiny, loose folds-just like the one Marie Antoinette wore to the masked ball (well, as portrayed by Kirsten Dunst in the movie).

    Really? Really?! Have you such little descriptive ability, Noël, that you can not even tell us what a dress looks like without waving a picture of one from a movie? And “well, as portrayed” – so you don’t even know if that was historically accurate before making the claim?

    Sigh. Noël is just bad. So far she’s not even offensive or making me question her sanity like with SMeyer or ELJ, she’s just… bad.

  3. Scarlet Specter on 26 July 2014, 12:31 said:

    I’ve just realised something; this book reads like a teenage (or tweenage) girl’s diary. Really.

    Welcome to YA, my friend. Get used to it.

    Now if only all of this crap was actually meaningful. What I mean by that is this: none of this, nothing here, seems at all realistic at all. No emotional connection between the reader and the characters, reducing all dialogue and exposition into a bunch of empty words. All this angst that we see? Nothing special. Just your average, run-of-the-mill teenage moodiness. I’m like that everyday at about six in the evening. At least I’m consistent, which is more than I can say for this character.

    You can just tell how little the author cared when writing this chapter (or the whole book for that matter). Classic amateur writing down to the shameless padding and half-assed descriptions. I’m not sure why so many bad writers do this, even if the process must be boring as sin and they know it. Why don’t they just browse over this crap and get on with the freaking story?

  4. pug on 26 July 2014, 15:23 said:

    when I open the door I forget to gloat, because Damen is there. Flowers in one hand, gold tipped hat in the other, with his hair gathered into a low ponytail, his usual sleek black clothes replaced with a frilly white shirt, a coat with gold buttons, and what can only be described as breeches, tights, and pointy black shoes.
    What an amazing coincidence! Astonishing! You’re dressed as a contemporary butchering of a 17th Century aristocrat and so he is too! Wow! Golly! It’s almost like he read your mind and had no other reason to do this than so we could have “that” scene which will be ubiquitous throughout pop culture for at least the next five years when it’s made into a movie!

    Move over, Twilight baseball scene! Move over, Hunger Games fiery chariot scene!

  5. pug on 26 July 2014, 15:25 said:

    Whoops, fucked up that block quote.

    what can only be described as breeches, tights, and pointy black shoes.

    “What can only be described”! Similes, metaphors, and allegories are for bad writers.

  6. swenson on 27 July 2014, 21:20 said:

    Yeah, I don’t really get that sentence at all. I mean, that’s not really describing them, is it? That’s literally what they are. They’re literally breeches, tights, and pointy black shoes. How else would you describe them?