
A Book Review on Candace Bushnell's 4 Blondes
by Flor
There are few things in life that can be considered as horrible as this book. Candace Bushnell is the anti-Christ of literature. If the publishing houses keep putting out this kind of excrement and passing it off as literature, I have no doubt the world will soon be illiterate. Not only is her book poorly and annoyingly written, it is vulgar, cheap and disgusting. Some of the things she writes are so awful that I'm thinking of getting hypnosis is a desperate effort to forget them.
All of the things that we strive never to mention, and always to ignore for propriety's sake, she casually mentions as if she's writing out a shopping list. Her characters are shallow and stupid, as I'm sure she is as well. I have no idea how she can look herself in the mirror after writing a book like this. I have no idea how her husband can stand to look at her after a book like this, or eat at the same table with her, and I definitely don't see how he can bring himself to have sex with her.
During the time I was reading the book, I kept telling myself that it had to get better, that it couldn't possibly be this bad, but it never did. I wanted to run with scissors. It was a much more enjoyable thought than having to read through that scum. I shall never buy another one of her books and I hope her "Sex and the City" fans take her out and tar and feather her.
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