A Twisted Tale

Having finally received a copy of TWISTED, by Steve Cavanagh, and having managed to avoid any reviews and opinion, I sat down last night to read.

I groaned. I fidgeted. And I moaned out loud. So much so that my Other Half asked what was wrong. I rolled my eyes toward the ceiling and said I was bored.

B O R E D! Yes, all in CAPS!

I managed to read a whole 102 pages before I stuck my bookmark in and gave up, and went to bed muttering.

Why?

The two main characters of Paul and Maria are not only boring, but unsympathetic on any level. The story, such as it is—given all the hype we’ve had—lead us to believe this was going to be Cavanagh’s “best” book yet. Has, in fact, been a tedious struggle. The prose is flat and the situation these two MCs find themselves in, well, quite frankly, is beyond dull.

Reading it is like watching paint peeling off a wall. You keep waiting for something, anything, to happen.

It never did. I can’t say as I’m enthusiastic about reading further to find out what all the fuss is, given I. Just. Don’t. Care.

The one light in all this cliched morass of vanity and in-jokes, is the minor, fleeting character of Bloch. Her backstory is the only original thing between the covers that I’ve read, so far, and that’s saying something.

Sigh! I’m sure this is going to be an unpopular opinion and, quite possibly, I’ll be in the minority in rating this one a dead-end.