| A rubbish author goes to Buenos Aires, does some research into how the local
police operate, and then writes a book about a rubbish author writing formulaic
slush who gets killed by a combination of a super businessman, a police chief,
and underhanded colleagues. Looking for and ending and lacking imagination, the
first writer writes in his book about a book ending with a standard bloody
shoot-'em up, and, yep, that's exactly how this book ends.
All of the cardboard characters have silly names, the entire plot is delivered
in great lumpy information dumps, and the atmosphere is non-existent. Even
when the lead character is shot in the stomach, it is told without emotion.
This is the most unimaginative book I've ever read. It is probably more
unimaginative than any book I could imagine. It is a bog-standard,
self-conscious load of rubbish. |
