Wulf C. Krueger

Oh, wow, this was ridiculously bad.

Carter and Arizona have been friends since fourth grade. They are the closest of platonic friends - until they, as is most convenient for the plot, both suddenly at the same time realise how insanely hot they are for each other.

With all the language skills of a teenager and the sensitivity of a butcher, Whitney G. spins a tale as coherent as a fever dream and as inventive as a rerun (this novel contains not a single original thought).

Arizona sneaks routinely into paid cooking lessons, and, in doing so, manages to get a full scholarship at “the second best culinary school in the world” in France and plans to move there. The remaining two weeks until her departure, she spends nearly every waking moment and every night with Carter. He, in turn, is so great between the sheets, he sexually awakens her, and Whitney G. writes smut like this:

»“Oh… Oh...Oh god…”. I felt him [...]. “Ahhh… Ahhh…”«

And that’s just the very obvious tip of the proverbial iceberg of bad, weird writing throughout the entire novel. In my reading experience, G.’s authorial eloquence is pretty much at rock bottom. It’s so bad that she used to self-publish under what is probably her real name, Whitney Gracia Williams. In Germany, the media must shorten the names of criminal suspects. That G. does it herself seems perfectly fitting.

Just before leaving for the airport, Arizona finally expresses her feelings for Carter to him in plain words. Carter, who wants to become a hotshot lawyer, has the amazing idea to respond by pushing her firmly away (“I don’t love you like that and it was just sex for me.”). He does it because he is obviously convinced Arizona needs to be protected from herself…

(Which she will actually confirm to be true later on.)

To top off this male chauvinist crap, Carter is obviously as smart as a paramecium when he tells Arizona the following near the end of the reader’s torture:

»If I knew that what I said would make you give me the cold shoulder or stop talking to me, I can promise you that I never would’ve done it and I would take it back in a heartbeat.«

Arizona moves to France, becomes the ultimate cooking princess there, befriends characters as flat as cardboard cutouts (which every person in this novel is), and eventually returns home with a boyfriend to whose presence Carter predictably reacts like an enraged gorilla. He first pounds his chest until Arizona caves and finally lets him pound her again.

Much to my dismay, the author also seems to face semantic or memory challenges:

»Panting and trembling, I shut my eyes—not answering any of his questions that he peppered with forehead kisses.«

In this scene, Carter didn’t ask a single question…

There’s also this gem of a scene in which Arizona confesses her feelings for Carter to her mother:

»”I asked him if he had feelings that were more than friend-like, if he felt like there was something more than sex between us, and he said no.”

“You asked him that in person?”

“No. It was in a text message. Same thing.”«

The thing is: She actually did ask him in person before leaving for the airport. It’s bad when an author doesn’t even remember what they wrote before…

As if all of that wasn’t bad enough in itself, the pace is that of a snail on tranquilisers. Thankfully, I read this mostly at night, so the way this steaming turd wore me out helped me find my way to bed. Since the novel was also as emotionally moving as reading IKEA instructions, it numbed my mind sufficiently to sleep at any moment.

Stay well away from this, my friends! Don’t be a non-DNFing Wulf!

One star out of five.

Ceterum censeo Putin esse delendam

Another read, another Bosch. A better Bosch than the previous one and, yet, still not back to old form.

It begins interestingly enough when Bosch is called out to a liquor store he knows from way back, the owner of which has been murdered. Just as usual, this sets off a police procedural with Harry Bosch at its front and centre. Ignacio Ferras, his latest partner, also makes some appearances, but only attains any kind of significance at the very end.

What comes next, though, is in several ways a complete departure from earlier paths: Maddy, at this point 13, is abducted in Hong Kong. Bosch is contacted and is told in no uncertain terms that he’s to stop looking into things. This is where a completely different part of the novel begins.

Bosch, of course, travels to Hong Kong to join forces with his ex-wife, Eleanor Wish, to rescue their daughter. This part is basically a wild manhunt through the city and its seedier districts. There’s much violence, and almost gore, in this part, and it felt like a bit too much. It’s also very different from other Bosch novels because here, Harry plays the role of a vigilante, and that doesn’t really suit him. Also, Eleanor deserved a better ending: She is shot and killed in a simple mugging attempt, instead of, as in the TV show, being killed for revenge.

Back in L.A. things start getting better until a very rushed ending that’s also told in a flashback - a curious decision on the author’s part.

Still, it’s a Bosch, and it was definitely more satisfying and interesting than “The Overlook”.

Four stars out of five.

Ceterum censeo Putin esse delendam

Phew… Once more, I was looking for a fun romance and despite recent disappointment, I chose to go with Christina Lauren’s “Josh and Hazel's Guide to Not Dating”.

This first sentence of the blurb accurately sums up the essence of this entire novel:

“Just friends. Just friends. JUST FRIENDS. If they repeat it enough, maybe it’ll be true…”

“Hazel”, the same blurb goes on to tell us, “knows she’s a lot to take”. Absolutely, and Hazel does it so well, it leads to a string of boring, horrible, humiliating, and/or confusing double dates on which Josh and Hazel set each other up.

Through these ordeals, which they go through about nine times, they and the reader suffer, but Josh and Hazel realise only very late they were actually going out with each other. This reader, on the other hand, would have had the chance to learn through pain and DNF this… novel. (He didn’t.)

Josh — well, guess what: Josh was so memorable, I’ve already forgotten everything about him. I’ve made no annotations about him, I have no highlights that would showcase his character. Just nothing. I think that either speaks volumes about my memory, or about the blandness of the character. You get to be the judge of that.

There’s not much more to be said about this one: It was clichéd, adequately written, sometimes a bit slow, and at no point did it exceed mediocrity.

Hazel’s pregnancy before she and Josh even get together, how she handles that, as well as the ending, further soured my enjoyment.

Compared to the fresh, sensitive, and much more enjoyable “The Paradise Problem”, or the “raw, awesome honesty” reflected hilariously in “The Unhoneymooners”, “Josh and Hazel” feels simplistic, old-fashioned, and more shallow and bland.

The novel is still good enough for three stars out of five.

Ceterum censeo Putin esse delendam