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Final Cut
PBK
208 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 1990
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Displaying 1 of 1 review
December 3, 2025
If I could give it half a star and punch the author in the throat, I would. I hated it from the moment I opened it, and it almost completely derailed my foray back into reading.
Far and away the most offensive thing I’ve ever read. Take a shot every time they say fag, or even say something is gonna put you in the “Faggot Hall of Fame” (a comment that was entirely inappropriate in this book, but I will be stealing and using in my personal life), and you’ll be dead by chapter 2. Not to mention the way it talks about women is disgusting. I guess it was to be expected from a book written in the 80s, but I was bewildered nonetheless.
And even if I shelved the rampant homophobia, sexism, and last minute racism on the last page (I’m sure there was more earlier on that I’ve just forgotten about), the story, writing, and characters were all dog shit as well. Loser ass cops doing garbage detective work, all for the actual reveal to come out of nowhere following 20 pages of unnecessary bullshit where he—you guessed it—chases down who he thinks is the killer to prevent them from deploying a bomb at a fashion show that the Queen of fucking England is randomly in attendance of.
I wanted to quit so many times (at just about every page), but I kept thinking, “No, maybe it gets better”. It didn’t. It started bad. It remained bad. And it ended even worse. The only positive of reading this is that I’ve proved to myself that I can accomplish something truly challenging. I’m not sure that’s worth it though.
At last, let me leave you with a paraphrasing of one of my favorite Letterboxd reviews to summarize how I feel: “I wish that instead of reading this I had died”.
Far and away the most offensive thing I’ve ever read. Take a shot every time they say fag, or even say something is gonna put you in the “Faggot Hall of Fame” (a comment that was entirely inappropriate in this book, but I will be stealing and using in my personal life), and you’ll be dead by chapter 2. Not to mention the way it talks about women is disgusting. I guess it was to be expected from a book written in the 80s, but I was bewildered nonetheless.
And even if I shelved the rampant homophobia, sexism, and last minute racism on the last page (I’m sure there was more earlier on that I’ve just forgotten about), the story, writing, and characters were all dog shit as well. Loser ass cops doing garbage detective work, all for the actual reveal to come out of nowhere following 20 pages of unnecessary bullshit where he—you guessed it—chases down who he thinks is the killer to prevent them from deploying a bomb at a fashion show that the Queen of fucking England is randomly in attendance of.
I wanted to quit so many times (at just about every page), but I kept thinking, “No, maybe it gets better”. It didn’t. It started bad. It remained bad. And it ended even worse. The only positive of reading this is that I’ve proved to myself that I can accomplish something truly challenging. I’m not sure that’s worth it though.
At last, let me leave you with a paraphrasing of one of my favorite Letterboxd reviews to summarize how I feel: “I wish that instead of reading this I had died”.
Displaying 1 of 1 review