The prose is aggressively overwritten and quirk-forward, mistaking volume for vitality. Nearly every moment is padded with stacked adjectives, exaggerated physical comedy, and nonstop escalation, resulting in scenes that feel more like animated slapstick than lived experience. What’s meant to be clever or charming often lands as forced and performative, with characters reading less like people and more like collections of quirks dropped into escalating chaos.
This is compounded by constant emotional signposting and authorial hand-holding. The narration routinely announces feelings and atmosphere (“a wave of relief,” “excitement bubbled within me,” “pure pandemonium”) instead of letting them emerge from the scene, while repeatedly labeling moments as chaotic, absurd, or funny rather than trusting the reader to perceive them. The effect is distancing: instead of being immersed, I often felt the author hovering nearby, nudging and insisting on how each moment should land.