And I deserve no pity. I've read another Patricia Cornwell novel. Like any addict relapsing, I told myself with every turn of every page to put the thing down and never touch another. Yet, I kept reading. With every turn of every page I reminded myself that I was reading one of the most stupid books ever written. Yet, I kept reading. I'm looking for a People Who Read Bad Books Anonymous group to join and like most of the bad books I've read, the acronym for the organization makes no sense.
Seriously. As unbelievable as it must be, I think Patricia Cornwell is getting paid by the word. She describes ersatz technical tools in more detail than did the technical writers describing how to put the tools together. As in most of her books the plot is too convoluted to make any sense. And the story, whatever the story was, ends as pointlessly as it began.
I was embarrassed to carry it around with me and yet I did. Sure enough someone stopped me and said, "Oh. You're reading Patricia Cornwell." I froze in my tracks while I considered looking at the tome in my hand and feigning shock and surprise while shrieking, "What? How did this piece of shit get in my hand?". But I didn't. I simply stared blankly. Then the person said somewhat sheepishly, "I read her, too. Isn't she awful?"
At last a kindred soul also living in shame.
Thus the PWRBBA organization is formed.
You can join but only if you want. Just don't tell anyone.