Elizabeth B. (baybelletrist) reviewed "Dreadful" does not begin to describe it. on 2/28/2009

Helpful Score: 9

I got this book today and sat down to read it, and you know? I want Toni Andrews to give me my book credit back. It was that bad. In fact, it was so bad that I am here now, writing my very first review, in the hopes that, even though I will never get back the time I spent reading this book, you will be spared the pain. (I pretty much started skimming at about Page 3, just to at least get an idea of how the book overall would go, and let me tell you, save your time for something better, like the New York City telephone directory.) Even though I basically skimmed it, though, I learned enough about it to be able to tell you why it was bad.

The writing was pedestrian at best; worse, there was no strong narrative voice, which is vital in a story told in the first person.

The main character is completely unlikeable. Okay, fine, you want to write a self-loathing person with psychic powers, great, but put some thought into the morality of the issue. She uses *mind control* on people and there's barely any exploration of the rights and wrongs. We learn on Page 1 that she killed someone in the first book, but her main concern about it is *not getting caught*. Though she spends half her time beating herself up for it, it apparently never crosses her mind to turn herself in and serve her time. Later in the book she bears some responsibility for another death, and her best friend thinks deeply on the matter and assures her that the people whose deaths she caused were "bad" and therefore it's somehow okay. There are no words for how sick this makes me.

The characterizations of basically all the supporting roles are flat, flat, flat. Bouncy, cheerful (she's described as a "naughty cherub," if only I were kidding), looks-airheaded-but-isn't best friend who wants to Fix All Her BFF's Woes: check. Cardboard-cutout boyfriend with a Mysterious Past: check. Snarky bartender: check. And on and on.

Even in a quick read I found other signs of lazy writing. I've lost track of the stereotyped characters, there are so many. We actually meet a Gypsy fortuneteller. (No, really, I'm serious.) The only obvious Latino in sight is an ex-convict who's found himself a sugar mama. Who's white, incidentally. The main villain of the piece is a man who molests his daughter. Apparently, however, just molestation was not bad enough for Toni Andrews. No, he has to be a *child porn producer* who uses his own kid in his movies, because the squick factor of "mere" molestation was apparently *not high enough*. This makes me even more sick than the cavalier treatment of mind control.

I suppose the blurb should have warned me, really. Please, for the love of all that's decent in literature, take the warning. There's plenty out there that's better written than this tripe.

(NB: I wrote this review for Amazon, but I'm posting it here to spare people the pain.)

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