A mysterious island. An abandoned orphanage. A strange collection of very curious photographs.
It all waits to be discovered in Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children, an unforgettable novel that mixes fiction and photography in a thrilling reading experience. As our story opens, a horrific family tragedy sets sixteen-year-old Jacob journeying to a remote island off the coast of Wales, where he discovers the crumbling ruins of Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children. As Jacob explores its abandoned bedrooms and hallways, it becomes clear that the children were more than just peculiar. They may have been dangerous. They may have been quarantined on a deserted island for good reason. And somehow—impossible though it seems—they may still be alive.
I told myself I would at least get to page 100 before giving up. Sadly, I didn’t make it. No, really…I suffered random attacks of narcolepsy that prevented me from going any farther.
This book was excruciatingly boring. Watching paint dry would have been more exciting. The writing was very purple and WAY too descriptive. (I’m talking a FULL paragraph of explaining, in detail, the MC’s friend’s shitty ass car. WHO THE HELL CARES?!) It was very dry, and the MC’s voice was bland and emotionless. He had little to no personality to speak of. I didn’t care about him, or the story for that matter. There was too much description of mundane, pointless things for me.
The ONE scene in that whole 88 pages where something actually happens did pique my curiosity (um, creepy monsters helloooo that’s what I signed up for!) – the idea would have pulled me in, but it was so boring that I couldn’t suffer any longer to see if it improved. I didn’t even bother skimming…after 88 pages of my eyes bleeding, I lost interest in this story.
Not gonna lie, I also kind of have a personal problem with the author. Maybe that’s tainting my opinion? Probably not, because it really did bore me to tears. I have a special hatred for those “famous” people (really though, authors are only famous to us readers unless they have a popular movie for their book) who think they’re rockstars – aka think they’re better than everyone else and are thus “untouchable.” This is the vibe I got from Ransom and Tahereh both at YALLfest in Charleston (not to mention she is IMPOSSIBLE to get ahold of anywhere, and doesn’t seem to give a shit about her fans, but that is another story), and Ransom gave my fiancé attitude for taking pictures of his wife. AT A PUBLIC SIGNING. Not cool.
The day Louisiana teenager Rory Deveaux arrives in London marks a memorable occasion. For Rory, it’s the start of a new life at a London boarding school. But for many, this will be remembered as the day a series of brutal murders broke out across the city, gruesome crimes mimicking the horrific Jack the Ripper events of more than a century ago.
Soon “Rippermania” takes hold of modern-day London, and the police are left with few leads and no witnesses. Except one. Rory spotted the man police believe to be the prime suspect. But she is the only one who saw him. Even her roommate, who was walking with her at the time, didn’t notice the mysterious man. So why can only Rory see him? And more urgently, why has Rory become his next target? In this edge-of-your-seat thriller, full of suspense, humor, and romance, Rory will learn the truth about the secret ghost police of London and discover her own shocking abilities.
WHY do I keep picking up “horror” books that suck?! This is the second Horror October book I’ve had to scrap. First of all, I was promised Jack the Ripper. So WHY THE HELL did I have to sit through 100 pages of mundane college bullshit? I don’t care about Rory’s classes, or what sports she has to play in, or her ridiculous family stories, or her special ritual of how she has to make Cheez Whiz melty before she eats it. I DON’T CARE. Seriously, this book went into mind numbing detail about Rory’s college life. 90 pages of NOTHING but college life. There were maybe two mentions of the murders, and it was only in passing. No joke.
Also, I feel like the author tried WAY too hard to make each culture fit into a special stereotypical mold. Southerners are hicks, and apparently all British people care about is baked beans and hockey. I don’t know jack shit about British culture, but I’m pretty sure there’s more to it than that. Then there was this:
If we get caught, I will claim I made you go. At gunpoint. I am American. People will assume I’m armed.
Rory was telling this ridiculous story about her family and she took a breath while she was eating and choked. After getting the Heimlich, she starts crying and leaves. Um? Oh, and did I mention that the term “sticky-uppy” is apparently an acceptable adjective?
He had really elaborate, bleached-blond, sticky-uppy hair formed into spikes.
Ridiculousness aside, I just couldn’t handle how boring it was. I actually fell asleep on it. Maybe it gets better, but I just can’t bear the torture anymore to find out.