Stuti's blog for depleting ships

Through the Tumblr I'm managing about the recent Goodreads policy change, Censored by Goodreads, I've discovered a glitch wherein any links to BookLikes are blocked. I put out a call on Tumblr, and a response told of how the user tried to alert the Tumblr overlords to this situation, and got swatted for her trouble. Links to BookLikes are absolutely vital, given that this is the main destination for the Goodreads diaspora, and there have been a variety of posts here that it's killing me I can't post. 

 

So, can we social media this situation? Can someone alert BookLikes that they are banned by Tumblr? Or can someone get me contact info for someone on BookLikes that I can talk to? 

 

And I'm http://ceridwen.booklikes.com/ just in case the reblogging thingy strips out point of origin of post. Reblog at will.

 

Keep circulating the tapes. 

 

Out. 

If this ain't the best thing since anime itself, I don't know what is. FYI, it's a Shinsengumi/Death Note crossover, or rather Mayo-lover/Death Note crossover. There are mayo gods and a constipated Yamazaki.

I hate telling this story. Just the thought of doing so, of exposing my past to even a handful of other people, makes me feel sick to my stomach. But with Goodreads' change in policy occurring and the word "bullying" being slung around so casually, I think it's time. 

What I'm about to tell you might be hard to believe. Or maybe you'll believe it, and maybe it'll upset you. I won't lie; what I went through is likely to trigger some people. If you believe me. I'm always terrified people won't believe me. After all, I was gaslighted so hard, for years even I didn't know whether I believed me. 

The thing to understand about me is that I'm autistic. What that means, on a very basic level, is that I have a good deal of difficulty both understanding, and presenting, non-verbal language such as tone of voice, facial expression, and body language. When I entered middle school at the age of eleven, I didn't know about this. Even if I had known, I don't think I could have grasped what it would mean for me.

I'd already begun experiencing difficulties with bullying and ostracization in elementary school, but what began as a small struggle turned into full blown hell when I entered middle school.

It started out okay, the first few days. The prettiest, most popular girl in my year asked me to vote for her for homeroom class president, and I gladly did. I tried to be nice, even though it was a little difficult at times. I didn't connect with these kids. My father had committed suicide a couple years before, forcing me to grow up fast in a lot of ways, and I couldn't relate to the problems and joys of the average eleven-year-old. I found a lot of it shallow and perplexing. But I tried to hide my feelings, because that's no good way to go about getting along with people, and I genuinely wanted to. 

I suspect that perhaps my inability to control my non-verbal language is what gave me away. That perhaps what I really thought and felt showed without my knowing it. I don't know. Certainly it didn't help that I was overweight, that I wore cheap, worn clothes and the ugliest plastic glasses Medicare would pay for. It didn't help that I read constantly (and I know we get a bit tired of that trope in YA, but I was genuinely, literally the only person I knew who read). It didn't help that I was going through a period of poor hygiene common among autistics (and numbingly humiliating to talk about now). There were a lot of things that didn't help, but the sheer intensity of their hatred--that's why I expect the autism played a part in some way.

If only name-calling were the worst of it. They cornered me at all different times to harass me: At my desk in the morning when I was trying to read, at the bus stop, in the locker room while I was trying to change. I had rocks thrown at me when I was walking home from the bus stop. People I didn't know, who weren't even in my class, called me names in the hallways. The girls from my class had lockers surrounding mine, and would stand blocking mine until I was at risk of being late for class.

Very early on, I was under the naive assumption that someone would do something about this. No one did. Even when my mom butted in, the changes that occurred, the "arrangements" made to "protect" me--it took me ages to realize they were far more punishments than protections. 

One of the things I had to do was something called "dailies." These were slips of paper that had to be signed by all my teachers in a day, then by my mother, and turned in to my guidance counselor the next day. This conflicted with another "arrangement": I had permission to leave classes a few minutes early to avoid the crowds, but I often couldn't because my teachers wouldn't get around to signing the stupid dailies until class was over. And my mother--oh, so proud she was of her job "protecting" me, but in truth she was a neglectful drug addict and often wasn't around to sign my dailies, so I got in trouble for not having them signed.

It took me some years to understand just how absurd it was. Dailies were meant for students who skipped class or didn't turn in their homework; I was not one of those students. There was no reason for me to be doing them. It took me years to see that many of these "arrangements" weren't about protecting me at all. Allowing me to leave class early? Getting me out of the way. Eventually getting me a doctor's note so I wouldn't have to go to gym class? Getting me out of the way. Eventually removing me from school altogether and giving me a tutor? Getting me out of the way. Everything was about taking me out of the equation, rather than punishing the people who were hurting me.

I didn't understand it. I came home crying and hyperventilating almost every day, yet the people who put me in that state never got in trouble for it. The only things I understood were: 1) There was no point standing up for myself, because any time I did, I got in trouble and 2) there was no point in telling anyone what was going on.

I'd become the perfect victim. I didn't tell about any of the things that were said or done to me. When a girl came up behind me in the locker room and punched me in the back, I said nothing. When that same girl approached me in the locker room a second time and shoved me to the floor, I told no one. I went to the nurse because my leg hurt from the hard floor and I cried, but I told no one why my leg hurt. 

I remember very vividly an incident from seventh grade, yet another that I never reported to anyone. I was sitting in one of the basement classrooms, waiting for the teacher to arrive and doing what I usually did: Reading and ignoring my classmates. (Let this be a lesson to you: "Just ignore them, they'll stop" is the biggest pile of bullshit anyone will ever tell you.) I kept ignoring them. I ignored them when they surrounded me to tell me there was a dead fly in my hair (by this time my hygiene problems had changed, but their attacks had not). I ignored them right up until I couldn't anymore: When they sat around me, gleeful as hyenas with the corpse of a wildebeest, staring as the teacher tried to remove the dead fly they'd put in my hair. I remember my mortification as if it was yesterday. But I told no one.

Of course, this was seventh grade and by then, I knew why no one believed me: My bullies had managed to convince them that I was the bully.

I'd learned it in sixth grade, after yet another incident that landed me in more hot water than the person who instigated it. One of my bullies had broken a pencil into bits and kept throwing the bits at me. It was one of the rare occasions where I got fed up, so I grabbed one of the pieces and threw it back at him. He immediately turned and told the teacher that I'd been throwing things at him. The teacher separated us and turned to hiss at me, telling me nastily that she'd be keeping an eye on me. I was utterly bewildered, since I thought it was common knowledge that these kids bullied me, even though they were never punished for it. 

Later, both of us were sent to the guidance counselor. I listened, confounded, as he described all the names I supposedly called him and his friends, all the swears I threw at them (never mind that, though I swear like I sailor now, I never uttered so much as a "damn" back then; I was perhaps alarmingly naive and innocent for my age). At one point, shocked, I opened my mouth to protest; the guidance counselor turned and viciously shushed me. I never had a chance to defend myself. In truth, I've never once had that chance. This was the first time I'd heard about any of this, because not a single soul had bothered to ask me if any of this had really happened; they just assumed it was all true. 

Not that defending myself would have done any good. Even if I hadn't already absorbed the lesson of keeping my mouth shut, being autistic left me at a severe disadvantage. I struggle to look people in the eyes when I don't like or trust them, and you can bet I didn't trust a single one of the adults around me. I stood no chance.

Things should have started making sense then. That time the leaders of the bully pack came up to me to demand why I was spreading rumors about them being prostitutes, and I stared blankly back at them and said "What's a prostitute?"--times like those should have made sense. They'd been lying about me all along. But instead, I spiraled into a very dark time in my life.

I have a sharper memory than almost anyone you'll meet. It can be useful, but it's also a bit of a curse sometimes; trust me, there are things I'd love to forget. But back then, I'd already been punished so much for things I hadn't done. Instead of believing in my own innocence, I felt like my mind was breaking apart. I scrabbled desperately, for years, to retrieve the memories I'd clearly lost, to remember doing and saying the things I was accused of. I owned up to the small handful of times I started shit and the even smaller handful of times I stood up for myself, but I could not for the life of me remember being the bully. It didn't help that my sister and her friends bullied me at home, and that my incredible disappearing mom loved to tell me all the time that "that was just [my] perception of what happened, not what actually happened" about all of her neglect.

These days, I know logically that I didn't do what I was accused of, but sometimes my mind starts skidding down a slippery slope to what feels very much like madness. I find myself grasping once more for memories that simply don't exist because they're of events that never happened. 

That's why I hate telling this story. Sure, it hurts to bring up those days, to relive moments that traumatized me so badly, I can't walk into a school building without having a panic attack. But it's all those years when I couldn't even believe myself that scare me. I'm terrified that people will think I'm a liar, that of course I was the bully because it was all those kids' word against mine. That children can't possibly be that awful, that they wouldn't think to team up and tell the same lies about a person. Children damn well can be that awful, especially when they're never taught better, when they always get away with it. And there will always be a part of my mind that is so fragile because of it.

This nonsense with Goodreads has made me think about those days. I may not always agree with everything my fellow Goodreaders do, but I have never, never had an ounce of patience for Stop the Goodreads Bullies. Their tactics remind me of my tormentors: lying, twisting truths, roping in people for whom it's convenient or desirable to believe what they say. I've been on GR since before STGRB showed up, I was around when the instigating drama happened. I largely stay out of these conflicts, but I watch them all go down.

STGRB isn't a band of innocent vigilantes out to protect poor beleaguered authors from the depredations of trolls and bullies. They are the trolls. They are the bullies. I was there for the doxxing and the stalking. I've been there every time one of their asshole followers has waltzed onto someone's review to throw a shitfit. I was there every time one of them and their 12+ sockpuppets got deleted from GR. I've been around, watching, seeing every lie, every threat. Their nonsense about this not being about reviews? Feh. It's always been about reviews, ever since Melissa Douthit thought she could storm around, self-righteously telling everyone how to behave, and didn't get her way. That whole mess started because of a review that she walked into, and it wasn't even her book that was being reviewed. It didn't start with GR users, it started with her. Just like it generally does.

And you want to talk abuse? Look at the comments on your average post on STGRB and you'll see it in spades. Ageism, ableism, classicism and misogyny so vile, it will make your stomach turn. Please, someone explain to me how "bba" or "stgrb-supporter" is so much worse than "she's clearly mentally ill" or "she's pretty young for being such a little bitch" or "Tranny Manface Creature" or "rancid psycho-bitch" or "three-hundred pounds with greasy unwashed hair" or any of a number of other truly disgusting things you can see being said about Goodreaders on STRGB. 

Goodreads have become my teachers and guidance counselors, bowing to the bullies and letting them get away with whatever they want. Why? Maybe because they think it's easier. Maybe they're trying to sell something. Maybe they drank the STRGB koolaid. It doesn't matter why. What matters is that GR is censoring its most valuable users. What matters it that GR, once home of readers and reviewers, have decided it's more important to protect author egos than the people who made them what they are today. You're Goodreads, not Goodwrites, GR. You're reader space, not writer space. Why don't you care about that anymore?

As a writer, I believe very strongly in reader space. One day, even though I love talking to other readers, I'll likely do so much less, because I believe that published authors should have a care how much time they spend in reader space. It's valuable to them. If the people at STGRB had any sense, they'd realize reader space is valuable to writers, too. A reader's ability to talk freely about book is important to the industry as a whole.

As a victim of bullying, I think Goodreads is wrong and they need to undo this harmful change. As a victim of bullying, I doubt they'll bother to listen. 

So shit just went down on GR and I came over to Booklikes, like a crew member abandoning the ship just before it sunk. Or maybe I was the voyager who saved herself just before it sunk. Damn, how I wish I were Popeye and could single handedly save the ship. But I don't have a anchor tattoo nor do I like spinach. And this ain't so bad, anyhoo.

 

I just wanted to post something fun, something that never fails to make me snort. LOVE PEACE AND FUCK CENSORSHIP.

Booooooooooooooring.Ding.Ding.It reads more like an excerpt than a short story, which is disappointing considering Gaby wrote it for a competition. Huh, I don't remember her telling us whether her story won or not. Maybe it didn't and I can see why.

this book is full of wonder! it's making me feel something that i can't name but remember somewhat from my [b:Tell the Wolves I'm Home|12875258|Tell the Wolves I'm Home|Carol Rifka Brunt|http://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/books/1335450415s/12875258.jpg|18028067] days and i don't even know why. story of my life.

Cross-posted on Books behind Dam{n}sLitmus test(s) time!1.Look at that cover. Look at those the two budding couples? Do you ship them? Which one?a)bothb)the guy and the girlc)the guy and the guyd)I'd rather you just get to the reviewIf you answer is a, you're most certainly not equipped to make decisions! Go on again and make a choice!If your answer is b, move onto further questions. Iz gotta mold you to perfection!If your answer is c, your body is ready Fangirl! Carry one, my wayward son(and daughter).If your answer is d, that ain't how it works. 2.Do you like to fangirl/boy?a)Duhb)this is a lame questionc)I'm getting thered)you are lameIf you answer is a, you gotta read this goddamn book. Duh.If your answer is b, I know, my friend but do you? Go back and answer.If your answer is c, Oh, yes you are! The destination is on the horizon; strain yours eyes and you'll find that lovely blot of...turquoise, right? Just one more question for you. If your answer is d, no, you are.3.Can you touch the tip of your nose with your tongue?a)Duhb)I'd like to but I physically can't.c)I haven't before but for Fangirl(and you), I'll try.d)that is disgusting.If you answer is a, you gotta read this goddamn book. Duh.If your answer is b, go get it fixed with all those surgeries and then come back. If your answer is c, the fact that you're even trying is commendable. Now practice until your tongue tears out and then read Fangirl.If your answer is d, no, you are.(You d ones make me so laconic. I hate it.)Anyways, who needs a real review after that. But here's why I personally loved Fangirl:*It reinvigorated my interest in writing fanfic, and writing in general.*Cath's personality got to me, and while not perfect, she was an awesome person. I could connect to her on so many levels, even though I've never had any kind fear about exposing my fangirl side to the world.*Cath's tumultuous relationship with her twin sister and her feeling of estrangement poked at my heartstrings. Their gradual drifting apart and her dislike of the particular phenomenon were my favorite aspects of the book. And jeez, her father I have liked very much.*Magicath- Cath's fanfic avatar. Her fanfic has created a mighty need in me. I don't even want to read the actual Simon Snow books as much as I want to read Cath's pieces of writing.*Simon and Baz! I ship 'em! Simon is very much like Harry Potter and Baz is our very own Draco Malfoy with fangs. Yet, I love this OTP because they were also different and besides, which one of us hasn't shipped Drarry at any point in the series or since?(Psst, those who haven't, keep it to yourself, 'kay?)*Brilliant roommate, she has her. “I feel sorry for you, and I’m going to be your friend.”“I don’t want to be your friend,” Cath said as sternly as she could. “I like that we’re not friends.”“Me, too,” Reagan said. “I’m sorry you ruined it by being so pathetic.”*The romance. It was sweet and sometimes made me wonder if I would need to curb my snarfing down Nutella for the next few days, but no worries, my pancreas are working overtime. I liked that her new experiences with love and all the ensuing jazz weren't the only thing that helped her along, and that it didn't take the spotlight.There were a couple if things that didn't sit well with me. A lot of issues, especially mommy ones, were not settled. I get that's it's a slice of life(phrase I have loved) book and not everything always works out in life, but then it's also a coming of age(phrase I have hated) novel and it needs resolution on most topics. There was also TOO FUCKING MUCH going on in her life, all the bloody time. Way too much. My inner demons may argue that's probably why I enjoyed it so much but demons are prone to devilry(demon-ry?) and you shouldn't listen to them.Sometimes, it also seemed like Cath was looking down on us all. I gotta say I didn't care much for that. On the other hand, I easily forgave her because who said she needed to be a polished gem? Her enthusiasm for Simon Snow and fandoms redeemed her every which way in my eyes. Guess it need not be said but take the test, read the book whether you pass or not, because people are different and you shouldn't judge them for that(or so says the book)(and me). Also this is the disclaimer in case you fail the test and like the book or alternatively, pass and dislike the book. Don't hold me liable for anything. Anywho, my love for you guys knows no bounds!

MUch-shuck, how old was I when I tried to read this one? Maybe 12? That was a loooong while ago and even my pre-teen, therefore by default, extremely lame, brain found this one tres horrible. I remeber liking all these quotes at the beginning of the chapters, and sometimes the imagery was pretty(that's what I remember; it'll probably be sparkly now), but the overall story was too crappy, and it was also one of the first love-triangles I'd read, and I detested it.The MC and her special-snowflake-treated-as-a-pariah-shit bugged me all kinds of wrong ways. The vampy guy was at least better than the fairy guy- ugh, he was so goddamn you're mine, we're destined, and I just wanted to bash him in the all the inappropriate places.This was probably the first book I hated. Whoa, guys this is the important stuff they leave out in history classes. The recent history, the history being made. What do you think, a couple years from now, when you're giving tests or taking part in trivia or those quiz shows or even trying to cozy up to someone, knowing about Atila or Forest Policies or New Earswick or Ebenezer Howard is gonna help you? Or will it be me and my reviews and my posts that's gonna help you reach you endgoal? Stay tuned in to my frequency, folks, and you will have a shot at a better lifestyle. Trufax. (Hint: The history two years from now will be my days of today. I will monopolize history, just you wait)

What a truly lame-tastic book, guys. Review to come when I don't have anything better to do. Or you know, before my exams start and I'm stuck in the loop of studying and studying more.KIIIRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!Stupid but BWHAHAHHAHHAHHAHHAH!!!!!

No can do, folks. Good book overall, but it isn't holding my attention.

In the name of holy, unspeakable trysts between Nutella and Snape, I swear this book's grown a spine.This book.A backbone.Dorian got personality.Chaol got interesting.Celaena got bloodier.Oh love love love! From the first page(too hasty), I knew this book was going to blow off the roofs and then it did. But after the 50% mark, well, shit got real.The writing's better and fluent already. I genuinely have trouble believing that it's the same author. It's creepy in the creepy places, scary when need be, a bit prosaic here and there, plus it finally has the air of a fantasy series about to become epic.And how the characters have grown! Celaena matures and suffers and morphs so much, and yet she doesn't seem like a different person. Scary, bloody cool but the core remains same. Then there's Dorian. I knew from the second chapter that he'd have me screaming and rooting internally for him by the end of the book, from the moment he decides to give up on Celaena. His chapters have more substance and purpose; they don't entirely revolve around Celaena. On the other hand, chapters from Chaol's perspective still revolve around Celaena for the most part but I'll whisper a secret of mine to you: I... don't... mind... it... I should also admit that I grew pretty annoyed when his name stopped appearing for pages and pages. Bugged me, it did.Also, I can't believe how much tumult Chaol and Celaena's relationship had to go through till the last word, and I get gleeful thinking about what the rest of the books will bring along. Ooohh, I just want more of it, more suffering. Bring it on, the nails and the knives and the lies! I liked the absence of love-triangle and it felt decidedly refreshing.Everything's nasty and nastier in Crown of Midnight. There might have been a few things I'd figured out already, but as the real plot was torn out of its envelope, the exact one that I'd found lame and lacking in Throne of Glass, I decided to discard Maas's lack of subtlety and enjoy the ride.Moreover, this book is so damned action-packed and covered in gore that it could give [Prototype] a run for its money. Now I have a few complaints but since I don't want to sully this review that speaks only of greatness, I shall put it in a spoiler tag.I think there was entirely too less time spent on Dorian's discovery, and it should have been explored a bit thoroughly. It felt slapdash and skimmed through.And for Chaol's sakes, Maas, stop mentioning Sam or I won't be able to get over him. Dig?I figured out the twist. It was so bloody obvious, what was the fucking point of prolonging it to the end? Why? I'm yet again gleeful, thinking all sorts of evil thoughts about how this twist will torture Chaol, and I realize that couldn't have been possible if the reveal had been made earlier. And that is the sole reason I'm not knocking off half a star. But dude. In the meantime, suffer, Chaol, suffer! Then maybe you'll understand that your part in the book is to stand pretty and provide for smexy times! You do not interfere with Celaena's plans and you don't get in the way of her blades, you chump!While Maas's story has grown in most other aspects, she simply must figure out a way to make the plot more mysterious and keep her twists covert.Another thing to be mentioned is that Crown of Midnight just can't deal with politics. It is solely an action book that also relies on emotions and always gets its point across, but there's hints of rebellion and rebellions don't work without politics.However, the rate at which the books seem to be developing for the better, I can't imagine how good the third book will turn out to be, and how many more of my issues with the series will be resolved.I. NEED. THE. SECOND. BOOK.Why?NON-MASSIVE SPOILER FOR REAL Because we shall travel to Wendlyn, that land of myths and monsters, a kingdom of dreams and nightmares made flesh.

ooh i liked it so much, mostly because they were talking clothes and i love it when people discuss clothes in books, rather than real like- that gets tiresome!

Somehow, the first novella of the entire series that I read more than an year ago made more of an impact on me than this 400+ pages novel I finished minutes ago. That's just...awkward.I liked this book well enough, especially after emerging out of my failed attempts to enjoy Boy Nobody since Celaena was a fun assassin. BUT there are so many things I just don't like:1. The writing. It lacks fluency, particularly when it changes to formal tones after entire chapters in laid-back sorta narration. It's also very childish for most part. But here's to hoping it gets better in the sequel!2. The Supernatural side. It was just lame, so goddamn lame! I expected something Tamora Pierce-type or even Downside Ghosts-effect but most of it felt straight out of some videogame-Not all realms are full of darkness and death. Someare filled with creatures of good—beings that, if our need is great enough, will follow us...That's why I wasn't interested in the over-all plot or who the murderer was, I just wanted her to get on with the Tests.But here's to hoping it gets better in the sequel!3. Chaol and Dorian.When I said the novella made more of an impression on me, I was partly referring to an old friend of Celaena's- Sam. I like him much more than these two even though he's dead but I like him so goddamn much and I don't even know why and I'm just holding my breath that he'll come back even though he's completely, absolutely, rotting-with-maggots-and-dancin-in-graves dead.Secondly, the Chaol and Dorian chapters were just fillers and served the sole purpose of getting across their feelings towards Celaena, which I believe should have been done efficiently through Celaena's chapters. In the end, it were these chapters that curbed any sort of feelings that I could have been developing towards either of them. Because I'm a horrible person, I just felt condescension, in particular when Chaol mentions that he's never watched anybody die. Lame-o.Still, I prefer him over Dorian because everybody knows if you want the girl, you don't declare your intentions to the reader in the first fucking book, considering it's a 7-novel series! Because that's even lamer than the rest because you gotta play hard to get, dude! Learn something from the stoic Chaol! Cheeses! But here's to hoping it gets better in the sequel! However, this book was much better than I expected and it was fun on an otherwise boring day.But here's to hoping it gets better in the sequel!PS The whole Champion deal? Very [b:Graceling|3236307|Graceling (Graceling Realm, #1)|Kristin Cashore|http://d202m5krfqbpi5.cloudfront.net/books/1331548394s/3236307.jpg|3270810], IMO.PPS I absolutely hate the alternate cover of the book.PPPS So who betrayed her?

I have practically zilch to say about this book.Wait, I do have something. Reading This Song Will Save Your Life didn't feel like reading. It's like one of those really well-written fantasies that just suck you in- but different too, because the magic here is in Elise and her passion for music and her nightly visits. There's magic right here in this book- magic like glitter, in the realm of logic; something no nihilist out there can scoff at. I finished TSWSYL in one evening and the moment I emerged, I had to take a couple minutes to orient myself.It is a brilliant novel and while I had a few bones to pick here and there, somehow they've been lost in the stack of... something good that you stack?Also someone who's read it, help me! I don't get the last line of the book.I’ll type up a new version of this and email it to you, Joy—otherwise it’s too messy to read! I don’t love all these suggestionsbut can use some of them . . .Maybe I sorta do, I don't really know, and if it means what I think it means or even if it doesn't, I HATE it! I don't get why but the paragraph before than one I loved to bits and this one... ugh! I also love the cover and I want those headphones. Bloody hell, I require them!Many thanks to the publishers for providing a review copy.

Since Maven certainly didn't please me, I tried to think outside of my chocolate-piranha obsessed self. Objectively, I tried to think(turned out to be a mighty task) think what Maven could possible provide a reader with. Engagement? Entertainment? Heartwarming story? A story? Characters? Anything? Chocolate piranhas?How do you say 'Nope' and shake head in dejection in Piranhnese?Maven begins the *cough*story*cough* in a futuristic world with our 21-year old Nobel laureate protagonist, and follows her as she boards a submarine, falls for the resident prodigy and uncovers a deadly conspiracy.Which would have been alright enough if:a. The characters had been interesting.b. The plot had been engaging, and had some kind of pace to it.c. The world had been built.Dr Lydia Ashley had a voice as bland as the food they serve in public hospitals. She is definitely a special-snowflake, and her whines and smiles about being so special and intelligent made me want to throttle her. Not really, because that would require me raising my hand, and I'd rather not waste my energy conserves(already depleted trying to finish the book) on her; she simply doesn't rile me to that point, and that is a mighty shame.Daniel Brewer, the other protagonist, I hated. He starts off as a lazy playboy and could have been developed as an acceptable character. However, his development is done in a single paragraph within the first twenty percent of the book, when he reads the sad history of Lydia Ashley and reflects upon his own nature of assholery. He decides to be a better person in those few lines and voila! he is, and he maintains the promptly acquired disposition throughout the book, with the kind of uniformity that even the military abandoned in the early 20th century. The plot is, crudely put, stinking'-ass lame. There's no mystery, no interest garnered and not even shock factors to rely on. It was a big, linear mess with one equation. Lame. And boring. The world building suffers the same fate as the character development. By which I mean there is none. How is this world futuristic? How is it different? What goes on outside this ship? In fact, what makes this ship different from the submarines of today? Is it just speed and convenient, albeit banal, modes of communication? Or something more? The only advancement I could see was progress in hair-removal techniques. Of course, there's also a glitch as nobody can guarantee how long it will take for the hair to grow back. Which is damn weird and unrealistic, because if there is no guarantee, or even estimated time, then the product won't be out in the market. Also, our lovely protagonist developed a synthetic cure for organic dementia when she was nineteen. Moreover, there is barely any clue to what goes on in the submarine or what kind of research goes on until 65% of the story's flowed by.The only thing I was curious about was why Lydia couldn't get preggers. So if you're interested in finding that out... nah, it doesn't really matter because that question isn't answered either. It's a rather short read, barely 300 pages and yet, it took me two days to finish it. The last hundred or so pages were the worst and took me four fucking hours. I tried to motivate myself with the promise of re-runs of Firefly, but I never did take kindly to bribes. It took me four hours. One-sixth of an entire day. Time I could have spent sleeping; time I could have spent not discovering chocolate-Piranha.But readers have liked it. So who am I, with my chocolate-Piranhnese mouth that spews articles on tedium, to come between a book and its readership?And that's it for Maven and me, folks. Review copy provided by publishers. Or something.

Well color me whatever you want. Blue, gray, pink or black(personally I wouldn't mind a bit of lilac right now but I see how tough that can be so here's a suggestion: go with various hues of blue with yellow spots(yep i look like a total avatar ripoff with a few modifications)).Practically everyone's loved this book and I can see why. Dude's an assassin and he actually acts and thinks like an assassin. But I suppose I prefer the fake, not-really assassins type. Or maybe they are the more 'fun' variety of assassins. That said, I always thought reading a book from a 'true' assassin's perspective would be like the most awesome thing ever, but trying to read more than 30% of Boy Nobody has just made me bleak and folks, I don't do bleak. Assassination is fun no more, I am sad to admit. My parents would be so proud of me if they knew. :PWell, I'm gone and don't expect me to be back anytime soon.