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mai2725 's review for:
A House of Pomegranates
by Oscar Wilde
Soulless
This book was, frankly, a struggle. It felt plain, boring, and completely lifeless. None of the stories resonated with me—they read like dull bedtime tales, lacking spark, depth, or purpose. I couldn’t relate to any of the characters, who felt more like flat outlines than real people.
Reading it felt like a chore; I was battling demons just to get through it. The writing itself was chaotic, almost as if it had been put together by someone drunk—pages bloated with unnecessary filler that added nothing but frustration.
While I could still detect Oscar Wilde’s signature obsession with beauty and soul, it was like a faint ghost of The Picture of Dorian Gray—a pale shadow of a masterpiece. This one, however, was just a big flop.
This book was, frankly, a struggle. It felt plain, boring, and completely lifeless. None of the stories resonated with me—they read like dull bedtime tales, lacking spark, depth, or purpose. I couldn’t relate to any of the characters, who felt more like flat outlines than real people.
Reading it felt like a chore; I was battling demons just to get through it. The writing itself was chaotic, almost as if it had been put together by someone drunk—pages bloated with unnecessary filler that added nothing but frustration.
While I could still detect Oscar Wilde’s signature obsession with beauty and soul, it was like a faint ghost of The Picture of Dorian Gray—a pale shadow of a masterpiece. This one, however, was just a big flop.