Worst book ever written

[ChrisFilter]

Chris, it is a terrible book - possibly only taken seriously because of the academic standing of its author. It is too early (relatively speaking) to regard it as having any status as a classic book, and it is one of a select few books that I have thrown across a room in disgust.

Why try and read it if fantasy isn't your thing? It's a an aquired taste, granted.

 

[Fictionist]

Why try and read it if fantasy isn't your thing? It's a an aquired taste, granted.

Because it is, surely, only by reading books that you can make any real judgement regarding their quality?

 

[rutabowa]

I love this beginning of sentence though:
"Frightened (of his predicament, not of the fireplace)..."

 

[danny la rouge]

It's a an aquired taste, granted.

I've tried to read it several times, because I thought I should. It's impossible. Can't be finished.

 

[mrsfran]

That's great. I've read it a few times now and still have very little idea as to what is supposed to be happening there. Compelling stuff though which raises interesting questions - like how can you progressively forget something second by second?

page 138 please.

Page 138:

'Yes, the innately crystalline nature of the soul; the mirror of Light, if thou wilt.’ Not able to give too much away in front of the others, Raphael subtly winked at Cornelius at his mention of the words 'mirror' and ‘light’, with the intention he would pick up on the hint.

'Yes, but I still do not understand,' Cornelius said, too distraught for Raphael's help to register. 'What about the man who died in my surgery? He had definitely not been attacked by a metaphor from what I could see. Please illuminate in more detail, Your Highnesses.' But as Cornelius tried to appeal to their better natures, he saw the archangels lose density of form; the light that shone from their souls, engulfing the solid matter of their human shapes.

'Mercury and sulphur, Cornelius,' Raphael finally offered, as he, along with the other three, finally lost all human shape, their essences of light blinking out of existence in a flare.

because 'printer' is such a tough bit of vocab to recall

Page 135!!

Page 135:

'I…I don't understand,' Cornelius stammered again, completely thrown by this overwhelming news. None of which he could have prepared for. None of which he had come here for.

'The pommel of the Sword hath now ceased to be the Stone of the Philosophers, the Om of thine consciousness,’ Michael continued in the same icy tone. ‘Thou hast released Excalibur without authority given to thee, and so it will return to its creator. Thou must restore it to its rightful place before Azazel seizes it. Restore it to enable the Grail to perform its intended purpose, Cornelius: realization of the Prima Materia. Without Excalibur to convert the light of the inner sun to the golden Elixir of Life, it cannot do this; and your Secret Fire will never be more than a small struggling flame. Thou will have failed in thine life’s work. Thou shall remain bound to death and rebirth. Thou shall have failed all those who come after thee.'

 

[Diamond]

Page 74:
Frightened (of his predicament, not of the fireplace), the man quietly sat down on the table as the surgeon instructed the prentice to fetch clean towels and bandages. He felt dizzy, struggling to remain upright. As Cornelius returned, he was slumped to one side, eyes tight shut, paralyzed with pain, fighting to stay conscious. Cornelius stretched him out and examined him. He felt cold and clammy and an irregular pulse fluctuated between a very hard beat and an almost imperceptibly weak one. The man fiercely clutched his side, refusing to let go, spluttering a cough that seemed to cause him a lot of pain.
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I love the contrast in this paragraph from a man sitting quietly, to being slumped to the side paralaysed with pain, and then back to the qualified observation that he seemed to be in pain.

 

[ChrisFilter]

I've tried to read it several times, because I thought I should. It's impossible. Can't be finished.

I finished it at about the age of 10. You just don't like fantasy.

 

[Bakunin]

Page 138:






Page 135:

Oh dear.

Mummy, please, make it stop.

 

[ChrisFilter]

Because it is, surely, only by reading books that you can make any real judgement regarding their quality?

That sounds slightly masochistic. If I don't like something, I don't read it.

 

[Fictionist]

Page 138:






Page 135:

I don't think I have laughed so loudly whilst reading for some time. Thank you missfran!

 

[danny la rouge]

I finished it at about the age of 10. You just don't like fantasy.

No, it's terrible turgid writing I don't like.

 

[Fictionist]

That sounds slightly masochistic. If I don't like something, I don't read it.

It can be - my experience of reading 'Moby Dick' can certainly be termed masochistic.

 

[Santino]

He had definitely not been attacked by a metaphor from what I could see.

Do what?

I might use that as my tagline: attacked by a metaphor

 

[Diamond]

Page 135:
'I…I don't understand,' Cornelius stammered again, speaking for us all, completely thrown by this overwhelming news. None of which he could have prepared for. None of which he had come here for.

Corrected.

 

[Fictionist]

Oh dear.

Mummy, please, make it stop.

No. MORE! MORE! MORE!

 

[mrsfran]

Page 171:

How nice to finally be in bed when you’re so very tired and your feet are relieved from hours of being bound in stilettos. Emma buried the side of her face deep into the pillow, and all unpleasant thoughts dissipated quickly. Instead, she thought about NIN and the dragon tattoo, the endless flight of stairs down the halls of residence and the homeless couple. All washing in and out of her consciousness in shimmering shades of turquoise, with specks of silver and white, soft pink and green swimming in fathomless waters. And in the moments before she fell asleep, those colours bleached into a sharp whiteness, comparable only to looking directly into the sun, as he entered her thoughts again. Filling all existence with his presence. Too vast and bright for mortal eyes. Protecting her from bad dreams while she drifted off deeper and deeper into unconsciousness.

A renewed awareness filtered through, light and warm. Eyes remaining closed, she pleasantly pondered about how she felt; so comfortable, so very warm. But she wasn’t in bed. No, because if that were so, why could she smell jasmine, honeysuckle and lilac? And hearing birdsong up in trees she knew were all around the field where she lay, buzzing insects near hopping from shrub to petal? Funny, I must have been dreaming I was in a strange, hard place before, she thought happily, and slowly opened her eyes.

Please note: this is the SAME BOOK.

 

[Diamond]

Can we have the opening page please, or was that your first extract?

 

[scifisam]

I finished it at about the age of 10. You just don't like fantasy.

I think maybe I'd have liked it if I'd read it when I was that age. I couldn't quite manage it as an adult, and I do like fantasy. It's my GF's favourite book, though.

 

[Iam]

Chris, it is a terrible book - possibly only taken seriously because of the academic standing of its author.

Tosh.

 

[ChrisFilter]

Do what?

I might use that as my tagline: attacked by a metaphor

I loved that bit as well "Well, it doesn't look like he's been fucked by a simile, but you can never be sure"

 

[teuchter]

Missfran, I want to see page 404.

 

[mrsfran]

Can we have the opening page please, or was that your first extract?

The opening paragraphs:

‘Ah. Now what?’
Uneasy, the young highwayman in black and red pulled down his mask and frowned at what was before him. Slumped forward over an auburn hunting horse was a tall, once savagely handsome and powerful man, who must be examined. The dark-green velvet of a long riding cloak was swept about him in heavy folds, revealing nothing but worn leather riding boots, black-gloved hands and the silver tip of his scabbard. Estimated at around forty, he somehow managed to look ageless; and that he was dead was an incontrovertible fact due to a crater in his skull the size of an apple. Just seconds ago, one eye had magnificently exploded. There was blood, bone and brains all over the place – most visibly in the snow - and a large inky patch was noticeable in the short dark hair, plain as day. Black periwig and ostrich-feathered hat, although dislodged quite inelegantly for obvious reasons, failed to make the man appear ridiculous. And his horse didn’t seem at all bothered about what had just happened, or what it was going to do now with this heavy burden on its back. The situation was not normal. It put the highwayman's teeth on edge and made him think about the gibbet. He turned to his colleague ten feet away, still waiting for an answer.

‘Dunno,’ the other, dressed in black and blue, shrugged, pistol still smoking, ‘never killed anyone before.’ It was true. He hadn’t. Never been necessary. People tended to hand over their things at the mere sight of him. Not that he was frightening to look at or a bully, or anything. Quite the contrary: he had a really pleasant face with a nice, mild manner. But the whole threat of highway robbery had been built-up so much by folk these recent years that half his work was done before he even started.

Again, I must note: this is the same book as the one with Cornelius and Excaliber and the woman in the stillttoes dreaming about birdsong.

 

[ChrisFilter]

Page 171:

Please note: this is the SAME BOOK.

NIN as in Nine Inch Nails?!

 

[Diamond]

Missfran, I want to see page 404.

But, but, you'll ruin the ending.

 

[ChrisFilter]

I think maybe I'd have liked it if I'd read it when I was that age. I couldn't quite manage it as an adult, and I do like fantasy. It's my GF's favourite book, though.

It's also my Granddad's favourite book. I wouldn't say it was my favourite, but it's far from crap.

The best fantasy, of course, is Robin Hobb's.

 

[teuchter]

But, but, you'll ruin the ending.

Perhaps missfran can put it inside spoiler code then.

 

[mrsfran]

NIN as in Nine Inch Nails?!

Oh yes. The author was a big fan.

Page 404, the final passage.

But stopped as the blade touched the hairs of his flesh, keeping it there, turning his head, disturbed, like a bird that had heard something, suddenly. Samael cursed and whipped the sword away, and before Asmodeus could understand what was happening, the angel was gone. Gone! The emotion was too much, and he fell to the ground, allowing the battle to continue over him, like all the soldiers slain. He lost consciousness, but was eventually roused by horse’s feet stamping all around, and the taste of earth and blood. Already his wound had begun to close and, though the blood loss was significant, he mustered all his energy to pick himself up and move along with the force. He was in the middle of a mass exodus, and through bleary vision, he could see the royalist colours, waiving up high like desperate signals in a raging storm. His side had lost and were escaping for their lives! Rupert! He must get to Rupert! Now that his life was spared, nothing else mattered. The Prince must not be killed or taken. He would get to him if it required all the strength of Hell.

 

[Iam]

It's also my Granddad's favourite book. I wouldn't say it was my favourite, but it's far from crap.

The best fantasy, of course, is Robin Hobb's.

The first three are brilliant. The second three less so. The third three are quite good.

The Solider Son trilogy is awful, though.

 

[damnhippie]

i have read a few unpublished ones that were unintentionally brilliant. one extract stays in my mind

'...which were sticky, because of the sex. Then she killed him with a vase.'

Garth Marenghi would have been proud

 

[ChrisFilter]

The first three are brilliant. The second three less so. The third three are quite good.

The Solider Son trilogy is awful, though.

It's certainly not as good as the trilogy of trilogies, but it's not awful. Perhaps I'm just being overly kind because I loved the first 9 so much.

I need to find some new fantasy. Haven't read anything good in ages.