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These are the chronicles of a book addict, a photo junkie, and an aspiring author, rewriting the very fabric of reality one page (and one snapshot) at a time. From the strange to the unusual; the abandoned to the abnormal; the haunted to the historic; the supernatural to the surreal; the forests of dark fantasy, the cemeteries of gothic horror, and the post-apocalyptic ruins of science fiction are the landscapes of my imagination.
"Time is infinite, and so are strippers." What isn't infinite, unfortunately, is my patience.
NetGalley cleverly omitted the first paragraph of the cover blurb, which is a shame because reading that would have saved me a lot of aggravation:
Chuck Palahniuk’s Choke meets Year of the Flood by Margaret Atwood meets an episode of HBO’s old, late night series Real Sex meets the movie Death Becomes Her meets Condoleeza Rice’s collection of unflushed tampons.
Yup, far too much Chuck Palahniuk and unflushed tampons for my tastes. This is, as succinctly as I can put it, an incoherent and rambling mess. The writing is stream-of-consciousness nonsense that grated on me from the first sentence, and I'll be damned if I could pick any sort of narrative out of it.
I don't usually rate my DNF reads, but reading further wouldn't have made me like it any more. Seriously, 1/2 star here for the quirky title, and absolutely 0 for the words that follow.