You know, I had no ideas of LKH's worth as an author (or the lack thereof) when I picked up Incubus Dreams. I should have known by the title alone that it was going to be one big suckfest, but I thought, 'What harm can come of one book?' and I paid for the damned thing.
I had never read any published work which was so unrelentingly awful as Incubus Dreams. (That includes anything I've read by Clive Cussler or Anne Rice.) But yes, by the time she was in the parking lot after the wedding in the beginning of the book, I realized I had picked out a true stonker of the first magnitude.
However, I sometimes get a kick out of reading crap simply for the hilarity of it and I decided I would read on. I was not fazed by LKH's preoccupation with what everyone was wearing, nor was I frightened off by Nathaniel's ankle-length hair.
However, once things began to heat up (?) with her vampire uke and Micah... they're rolling around on the floor and Anita's having her 'to fuck or not to fuck' dilemma, I began to seriously lose my temper. I was skimming through it waiting for Laurell to get to the point already. I've known people half Laurell's age who could write steamier scenes. Between the angst and whathisbucket's 'deep, green pools', I realized that Laurell was just incoherently confusing masturbating and writing. I think what did it for me was finally, after that whole scene with Anita's vampire uke going apeshit--after Anita fucks him into submission--he's suddenly drop dead gorgeous and sunlight doesn't hurt him anymore?
By that time I could have given a shit less what the explanation was, because I'd had it up to my eyebrows with Anita's generally pissy, unlikeable demeanor and her harem of whinging, angsty men.
I had to smack my paperback against my footboard a few times before launching it across my bedroom, in the hopes returning some of the pain.
Of course, afterwards I read a friend's Merry Gentry books, which were awful and rife with WTFness throughout, but still not as bad as Incubus Dreams.
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I had never read any published work which was so unrelentingly awful as Incubus Dreams. (That includes anything I've read by Clive Cussler or Anne Rice.) But yes, by the time she was in the parking lot after the wedding in the beginning of the book, I realized I had picked out a true stonker of the first magnitude.
However, I sometimes get a kick out of reading crap simply for the hilarity of it and I decided I would read on. I was not fazed by LKH's preoccupation with what everyone was wearing, nor was I frightened off by Nathaniel's ankle-length hair.
However, once things began to heat up (?) with her vampire uke and Micah... they're rolling around on the floor and Anita's having her 'to fuck or not to fuck' dilemma, I began to seriously lose my temper. I was skimming through it waiting for Laurell to get to the point already. I've known people half Laurell's age who could write steamier scenes. Between the angst and whathisbucket's 'deep, green pools', I realized that Laurell was just incoherently confusing masturbating and writing. I think what did it for me was finally, after that whole scene with Anita's vampire uke going apeshit--after Anita fucks him into submission--he's suddenly drop dead gorgeous and sunlight doesn't hurt him anymore?
By that time I could have given a shit less what the explanation was, because I'd had it up to my eyebrows with Anita's generally pissy, unlikeable demeanor and her harem of whinging, angsty men.
I had to smack my paperback against my footboard a few times before launching it across my bedroom, in the hopes returning some of the pain.
Of course, afterwards I read a friend's Merry Gentry books, which were awful and rife with WTFness throughout, but still not as bad as Incubus Dreams.
Gawd it felt good to pitch that fucker.