His curls are a dark jungle, bis black jeans (extra-extra-longs) are grubby, which is perfectly normal, but now he's wearing a khaki T-Shirt two sizesHis curls are a dark jungle, bis black jeans (extra-extra-longs) are grubby, which is perfectly normal, but now he's wearing a khaki T-Shirt two sizes too small. The front of it reads Jesus loves you - Everybody else thinks you're a wanker.
Although I don't exactly know what I had expected - apart from great chemistry, extra-ordinary writing and mystery, because no other than brilliant Cath Crawley! blurbed the young adult Aussie Sherlock Holmes retelling, I can safely say it wasn't this.
My main problems consists of the two main characters. I don't get them, I don't get their relationship, I don't like them. James Mycroft (I know the original Holmes isn't particularly endearing either) even repulses me somehow. His slobbery, pig-style method to eat with his hands, his dirty clothes, his chain-smoking habit, his conviction that if you small-talk to the bus drivers (view spoiler)[ or any people in the service providing industry (hide spoiler)] often enough, they gratefully feel your friendship and let you hop on for free, his aloofness that borders on stupidity. When I entered his room, Christmas twinkle lights and all, together with slightly childish, neighbor-besotted heroine Rachel Watts (Watson), I had the strong nasal impression that it must smell unbearably rancid and sweaty-socked. That multi-sensual picture firmly settled itself in my mind before the teenage hobby detectives stuff the rest of the dinner Mycroft had dragged his greedy fingers through into a container or bag to offer their homeless friend in front of the zoo. It turned out to be so off-putting that I have a faint reminder on my palate a day later.
Strangely the ripped jugular of the victim and the consequent gut-spilling did not effect me at all. I repeat: The problem is the characters. Relatable characters are the most important thing for me in any book, chicklit, crime story or dystopia.
There is no way I am going to fall for the duo in the course of this story. Thus I stopped reading at the 17% mark and deleted the sequel from my electronic TBR pile.["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>...more
Meanwhile I'd spent the whole week fighting the flutter in my stomach that started when he sat next to me in sociology class. I've just read the sneakMeanwhile I'd spent the whole week fighting the flutter in my stomach that started when he sat next to me in sociology class. I've just read the sneak chapters (21 pages only), which is a thing I rarely do, but I had a strangely uneasy feeling concerning the question whether the book and I would fit.
Well, we don't. Right in chapter one the reader is forced to meet that insanely attractive, new, mysterious guy who occupies the heroine's every thought - in spite of her plans to stay attachment-free because of her mother's - who is one of those mostly absent and selfish mothers the YA reader is supposed to hate with passion - habit of spontaneously calling the movers for a van because of her job in the military and in spite of some obvious weird tendencies of Mr. Tattooed-Forearm, like dropping pictures of prickly heroine Avery he shouldn't have in the theater room or speaking about her as being of first level priority to someone on his cell.
I guess the real posh Cinderella-of-a-powerful-family-setting is going to be bomb-dropped on the reader around prom-time, meaning the please-stay-in-because-I-tell-you-to-evening that should start on page 22, but I already know enough to do a brisk U-turn: Unlikable main and side-characters, a strong focus on bad-boy-romance with a second extra-mean, but well-dressed jerk peeking or leering around the corner, an unconvincing writing style and a strong vibe of business-as-usual-YA....more