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A review by soartfullydone
Storm and Fury by Jennifer L. Armentrout
Did not finish book.
1.0
DNF'd at 12%.
I know that's a low amount of reading, but I can already tell that this book isn't for me, and it's not likely to improve. Storm and Fury reads like it's a book out of time, stepping proudly from the YA trends of 2010-2012 and somehow failing to realize the year is 2019 and it's sticking out like a disappointing, plain black suit at the Met Gala.
Between the gargoyles who are somehow supermodel hot (but not as mind-crushingly hot as the romantic gargoyle love interest, of course); the boringly modern/urban fantasy setting that is so hard for me to enjoy; the Super Special Main Character With a Secret whose failing vision is only a hindrance to her when it's convenient for the plot; and the terrible, immature writing voice, I just can't do it. It's not so much that it made me cringe as I was stuck in a permanent wince the more I kept reading:
And then there's the ever eloquent:
Does Armentrout really think teenagers talk like this? That this is the hip new lingo around the block? Yeah, I can't. I love myself too much, and there are so many other books--hopefully much more enthralling than this--that I want to get to. I'm really in no mood to read further attempts at banter from our two leads much less have to endure Trinity's crap voice and her crap eyes and her craptastic life and however many other ways she can overuse a single word.
I know that's a low amount of reading, but I can already tell that this book isn't for me, and it's not likely to improve. Storm and Fury reads like it's a book out of time, stepping proudly from the YA trends of 2010-2012 and somehow failing to realize the year is 2019 and it's sticking out like a disappointing, plain black suit at the Met Gala.
Between the gargoyles who are somehow supermodel hot (but not as mind-crushingly hot as the romantic gargoyle love interest, of course); the boringly modern/urban fantasy setting that is so hard for me to enjoy; the Super Special Main Character With a Secret whose failing vision is only a hindrance to her when it's convenient for the plot; and the terrible, immature writing voice, I just can't do it. It's not so much that it made me cringe as I was stuck in a permanent wince the more I kept reading:
Holy crap on a cracker the size of Texas, we had visitors, and I was completely unaware that we were going to have visitors.
And then there's the ever eloquent:
"Holy crapsicles," I whispered, taking another step back.
It was him.
The utterly beautiful blond Warden.
Zayne.
Does Armentrout really think teenagers talk like this? That this is the hip new lingo around the block? Yeah, I can't. I love myself too much, and there are so many other books--hopefully much more enthralling than this--that I want to get to. I'm really in no mood to read further attempts at banter from our two leads much less have to endure Trinity's crap voice and her crap eyes and her craptastic life and however many other ways she can overuse a single word.