Books are unrealistic and here's why you disagree with me - trying to start arguments again

 Books are unrealistic and here's why you disagree with me

Don't pretend that title didn't anger you ever so slightly (or more than that) as you immediately started trying to come up with arguments as to why I am wrong and trying to think up any book you've ever read that could be an exception. First off, I know, I wish I could disagree as well. Secondly, don't try and argue with me, I will either win or ignore you, so either way, you will lose.

If you've ever picked up any book ever, you might already have an idea of where I'm going with this.

Friendships, relationships. All of it. Books are an idealistic version of reality and you can't argue that. People are thrown into situations that they are unfamiliar with and they step up to the occasion. People make friends, or have friends who know them so well they can read the tone of their messages. This is all incorrect.

I have a best friend, I've been friends with her since I was seven years old. Yet, I have no idea what she's going on about half the time and we do not like the same things. Most books I've read, ones where the main character has a best friend that they've known forever, know every little thing about them, like that obscure conversation they once had that led to them being embarrassed, so the friend never brings it up again. I don't know about you, but I go out of my way to annoy my friend.

Take the shy main character, the one that has never had any friends or been in a relationship. Suddenly, the have a best friend who won't leave them alone and their crush likes them back. I will openly admit, I've never been in a romantic relationship before, I'm much too awkward to ever talk to people I even remotely like. This is why I don't believe that shy character can suddenly lead a completely different life and not feel strange about it, or feel out of place, insecure about whether these people actually like them or not.

Siblings. Need I say more. I would love to write a book where there are siblings who act like me and my siblings act, but somehow I don't think people would like it. We purposefully annoy each other by leaving doors open, just a little bit. Sometimes we get along famously, but other times we're arguing about who gets to sit where. There is no 'best seat', we just all want the one that the other ones want. We have full on fights, with balled fists, but stop the punches before they hit. We then act as if we have been punched and fall accordingly, pretending to be hurt while the other person may or may not start fake kicking us. These fights are also often in slow motion. I have never read a book where there are siblings who act like we do. If you have any good recommendations of books that have realistic sibling portrayals, please let me know.

Learning things way too quickly in books annoys me to no end. I once read a book that involved a section about martial art training. I am learning Karate, I have been for about a year. There is no way you can get that good in three months, especially if you are about twelve years old, and then be able to take on full grown men. Also, languages. I have tried multiple times to learn German and French (and Swedish once), but I have not got the patience and I get frustrated when I don't have someone who speaks the language fluently to teach me. Therefore, it irks me when someone in a book learns a language in a matter of pages. Are either of these things realistic? I don't know, I've never dedicated that much time to learning something. But it annoys me, so I'm ranting about it.

Bookworm takes off glasses, puts on makeup and suddenly no one recognises her and she is drop-dead gorgeous. No, take the makeup off, you don't need it. Put the glasses back on, you do need them. Pick that book back up because if that boy only pays attention to you when you pretend to be someone you're not, he's not worth it.

There are probably a lot more things that I wanted to write about, but I abandoned this post halfway though and returned to it a couple of days later, so I don't actually remember what I was planning on writing about.

Do you disagree, or agree? Can you think of things that annoy you in books that I haven't listed, that you're sure I meant to write about but forgot? Probably. Please share these things, I do like conversation and causing arguments!

That's it from me for now then.

Bye!

Writing Prompt Stories, Mini Stories That My Mind Cooked Up – Part 2

 

"Honestly, I just want to help people."

"I find that hard to believe when you just confessed to five murders."

To be fair, it did seem pretty suspicious.

"Wait, you have to hear me out," I held my hands out, palm up, begging her to listen, to let me tell my story. She sat back in her chair, crossing her legs and waving a hand, as if to say 'go on then'. Grinning, I sat back in my chair, clearing my throat. I do so love storytelling.

I had been ambling along, more of a stroll really, along the river, when a van had pulled up alongside me. A white van, the creepy kind where the windows are mirrored to add to the aesthetic. The window rolled down and I stopped walking, heading over to the van. Their hair fell across their face, obscuring my view of them, but they were obviously lost, who wouldn't help them?

It seems, though, that perhaps getting into the van to help the poor person find their way around the city wasn't a great plan. I mean, it wasn't the best idea, but during our short conversation, I found out that they liked carrot cake as much as I do, so they seemed pretty cool.

They had asked for directions to a specific store, because apparently they had a delivery of sliced bread in the back of the van. Isn't that just the best thing?

There I was, giving them instructions, when they turned the wrong way. I had specifically said straight on, but they turned left. There was no traffic, nothing preventing them from going straight on. I had turned to them, confused, and they had looked over and winked at me. I smiled back, reaching for the door handle, but it was locked. I looked down at the handle, trying it again, and then trying the window, but neither opened. Starting to panic, I turned back to face them, only to catch a glimpse of a club before it connected with a crack against my head, everything going dark as my head lolled forwards.

I woke up on the floor of the empty carpark of a construction site. The site was empty, either the project had been abandoned or work simply wasn't planned for today. I stared at a large yellow vehicle, trying to figure out what it was used for, my head heavy and aching.

"Mornin'," I turned my head, the movement forcing me to blink away stars, and stared up at the van driver. "How are you feeling?"

"Get away from me!" I screamed, pushing myself up onto my elbows in an attempt to shuffle away from them, but a wave of nausea overwhelmed me and I rolled to the side instead, opting to crawl away.

"I'm your worst nightmare and, darling, I've come to reap you," I turned my head to look over my shoulder at them, wondering if they was being serious – the humour in their tone and the grin on their face told me otherwise, but the throbbing of my head stopped me from jumping to conclusions.

It was when they reached into their jacket and pulled out a knife that I turned and started to crawl away as fast as I could, hearing their footsteps approaching on the loose gravel of the carpark.

A burning erupted between my shoulder blades and I screamed as I fell against the floor, my arms giving out beneath me. They ripped the knife out and I screamed again, trying desperately to pull myself away from them, but my arms had given up. I tasted blood in my mouth and felt it start to trickle down my chin as they stood, watching, laughing...

"Let me stop you there."

I looked up at her, angry that she had stopped my flow. I had been at the best part.

"In this job," she sighed, "I get to hear some pretty bad excuses. 'It wasn't me, I was at home' but there's no alibi and there's definite proof they were there. 'She attacked me first', but ten different eyewitnesses say otherwise. This one, I have to say, tops the cake on worst excuses I've ever heard."

Narrowing my eyes, I lifted my hands onto the table, the cuffs clinking against the table as I leant forwards.

"You didn't let me finish, but you've ruined it now," I sneered, her face showing no signs of intimidation. Turning a page on her notepad, she hovered her pen over the page.

"And what would the ending be?"

"It's really quite clever," I grinned, leaning back in my chair, my hands clasping in front of me as I stared at the ceiling with glee. "The big plot twist, is that the story is not from my perspective." I looked at her, waiting for a gasp, for a look of realisation, for anything. But alas, she only looked bored.

"No, it isn't, is it? For one, I don't see a gaping wound in your back." She deadpanned and I slammed my hands down on the table, the sound of the bang bouncing around the room.

"You think you're being funny..."

"What I think," she interrupted me, "is that you are telling the truth, albeit in a roundabout way. You pulled up alongside the river, asking for directions. You knocked out and later killed a man named John O'Doherty, stabbing him between the shoulders and puncturing his lung, watching as he choked on his own blood. You dragged his body to the back of your van, putting him with the previous four. If a passing woman hadn't heard a scream and called the police, you would have left again, to find your sixth victim." She tilted her head to the side. "How's that for a story?"

"It's pretty good, it's lacking a bit of incentive, though," I mused, pursing my lips. "Maybe you should do some revisions, a little editing and then come back and we'll take another look at it." It was her turn to narrow her eyes and she looked about to say something else, but the door behind her opened and another officer walked in. He leant over to whisper something to the officer sat opposite me, who had her eyes on me the entire time.

The officer glanced towards me, a grim look on his face, before leaving as quickly as he had entered. I watched him go, waving at his back, before I turned back to face the woman opposite me.

"How's this for incentive – five men found dead in the back of your van, all five irishmen who worked at the factory that you recently got fired from. Turns out, they were all on the same production line as you. Also, a little bit of information has come to light," she gestured towards the door, telling me that the officer had just told her this, "you used to threaten all five of them and it was their reports against you that lost you your job. All of your threats, it seems, were backed by the fact that they were Irish, a culture you have been prejudiced against since the death of your mother while under the care of an Irish doctor, eight months ago."

She fell silent as I felt my anger seething.

"You dare mention my mother–"

"Furthermore, since we already have evidence of you admitting to the murders, as well as all the evidence that stacks up so nicely against you, the only purpose of this continued interrogation was to get a straight story and I feel like we have completed that task now–"

"I want a lawyer."

"Sweetie," she leaned forwards over the table, "you'd better have a good one."

The anger overcame me and I lunged across the table, screaming at her, the shackles rattling and pulling tight as I tried to move further than I could. She started, leaning back in her chair and pocketing her little notebook, clicking the pen off and standing, straightening her jacket and turning, walking towards the door as I remained, sprawled across the table, shouting profanities after her.

I would get her.

Sitting back in the chair, I cocked my head to the side and started laughing, imaging watching her cough up her own blood and being able to do nothing as her lungs flooded and drowned her.

From the other side of the screen, the footage of the interview was being saved, the notes being put neatly into a file and the interviewer was being handed a cup of coffee.

"How on earth did you get her talking?" someone asked.

"Look at her," the woman pointed and all eyes turned to look at the girl, at the blood staining the ends of her sleeves, on the bottom of her shoes and a streak across her jeans where she had wiped the knife, sat with her head thrown back, laughing, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"She wanted to tell a story, so I let her tell it."

Hello! I'm sorry this is so long, I started and couldn't stop. It also got a lot more complicated than I meant for it to, but that's life I guess.

This is probably incredibly factually incorrect (I have no idea how interrogation works) but I don't really care, it seems like it ended up as a pretty cool little story. Also, the whole 'motive' thing was given no thought at all, which is why it is terrible.

I'm starting to see a theme with these prompted stories, in that they all seem to be quite grim and violent...

Anyways, that's it for now!

Bye!

A Review – Paper Towns by John Green

Paper Towns
By John Green
A Review

I have realised that my reviews are not really reviews by definition, but rather my thoughts while reading... I suppose that is what a review is, but mine seem to be a bit more thrown randomly together and slightly slapdash than other reviews I have read.

Never mind.

Today I have a review of Paper Towns by John Green. As usual, I can't be bothered to tell you about the book myself, so I am going to use the blurb to do so.

Quentin Jacobsen has always loved Margo Roth Spiegelman, for Margo (and her adventures) are the stuff of legend at their high school. So when she one day climbs through his window and summons him on an all-night road trip of revenge he cannot help but follow.

But the next day Margo doesn't come to school and a week later she is still missing. Q soon learns that there are clues in her disappearance... and they are for him. But as he gets deeper into the mystery - culminating in another awesome road trip across America - he becomes less sure of who and what he is looking for.

Amazon UK • Amazon US

Sounds good, right? I will admit, though, that I didn't actually read the blurb properly before buying it. As always, there is a story behind my obtaining this book.

If you have an Amazon account, you'll get those emails saying 'Amazon Recommends' wherein they recommend you anything remotely related to anything you've ever looked at. For example, I bought my brother a CD for Christmas (it was a genre of music I don't even like) and I'm still getting emails recommending me CDs from that genre.

Anyway, I got an email and I clicked on it because I am always curious as to what Amazon thinks I want. In the email, was this book, with the price listed as £3.65. I was confused and clicked on the link, thinking it must be the ebook version. Nope, paperback, £3.65. Hurry, only 2 left in stock.

The 'hurry' panicked me and, after briefly skim reading the blurb, I put it in my basket and bought it. No shipping cost, I bought a brand new paperback for £3.65. I am still a little shocked about this fact. Sadly, I checked, this is no longer the price, but it's still a good deal!

Time for the actual review part, I think.

I read a majority of this book on a Friday, but then I had to eat dinner and didn't pick it up again until the next day. You might hate me, but I folded down three corners in this book and bent the spine so it would stay open so I could drink tea at the same time as reading it. I know, I'm a terrible person.

This book starts with Quentin, Q, as a normal person, going to school, with a record of never having skipped a day. Then his neighbour, Margo, climbs in his window and drags him off on an all night adventure of revenge and fun. Q hasn't properly hung out with Margo since they were kids, but, obviously, he has a crush on her. How could you not? She's free spirited, pretty, does anything she wants. But no one really knows her, and those that do know different versions of her, which begs the question – who is the real Margo?

After the epic night of revenge and technically not breaking the law (they never broke and entered, they broke some places and entered others, but never both at the same time) Margo goes missing and it seems that only Q is particularly worried about where she has gone.

Margo has gone missing before, but she has left a trail, a trail that seems to be for Q alone to follow and find her.

For the short while that Margo is in the book, I can't tell if I love her or hate her. She does what she wants and seems like a fun person to be around, but she also pushes Q into doing things he doesn't want to and makes fun of him when he panics about the things she has dragged him into. She can be really quite mean, but at the same time it almost seems like she is hiding behind a personality she has created for herself.

Q seems like a typical teenager who has become obsessed with something. And that something is finding Margo. While trying to find her and follow her obscure clues, he has finals to contend with, as well as typical teenage dramas, such as whether or not he has access to a car or the fact that his friends are too excited about things such as prom and girlfriends to help him all the time.

There is a fantastic section of this book, one of my favourite bits, where Q and a group of his friends end up on a road trip, on a race against time, and the journey is eventful, entertaining and incredibly stressful to read about. They are on such a tight time limit, even though that time limit is about 22 hours, that any stops for fuel and snacks are carried out with such precision and chaos that it is rather humorous to read about!

The adventure this book takes you on is wonderful to read about and has made me very much want to buy Song of Myself by Walt Whitman, as it plays a key role in the story. I am keeping a list of all the books I want to buy and in the last week or so, it has increased by about half an A5 page. My bank account hates me already.

I think that is all I have to say about the book right now, I had other thoughts while reading it, but they all seemed to leave my head as soon as I sat down to write this (helpful, right?) so I think I will end it here.

If you've read this book, what are your opinions on it? If you haven't, and you were even a little intrigued by this post, then you should get a copy – I left links further up by the image, I can't be bothered to add them again.

Bye!