Murder is not a personality trait. Moving on...
Every month, the Rusty Book Club picks a book for us to read together. Sometimes I discover a new favorite. Sometimes I read something I probably never would have picked up on my own. And sometimes I make it to 35%, close the book, and happily move on with my life. Daggermouth was that book.
Let's start with Greyson. Our hero. Or at least I think he's the hero. He spent so much time letting other people make decisions that I wasn't entirely sure. I kept waiting for him to take charge of...well...anything.
Then there's Shadera. I understand she's supposed to be intimidating, but "likes murder" isn't a personality trait. It's a hobby. I wanted layers, motivation, complexity, something that made her feel like a person instead of a walking crime scene.
And then we have Maximus. Maximus creates a law requiring everyone to wear masks. Fine. Interesting premise. Then his own son gets around it because...loophole.
Oh.
So the law is absolute unless it's inconvenient for the plot. Got it.
The more I read, the more I found myself questioning the logic behind the world instead of getting lost in it. Fantasy asks readers to accept dragons, magic, impossible kingdoms, and all sorts of wonderfully ridiculous things. I'll happily do that. But once the people stop behaving like believable people, you've lost me.
And because apparently I hadn't suffered quite enough, there were sweaty sex scenes that felt about as convincing as everything else. They didn't deepen the characters. They didn't make me care more about the relationships. They mostly made me wonder if everyone involved needed a glass of water and a better editor.
By the 35% mark, I realized I wasn't having fun. I wasn't curious. I wasn't emotionally invested. I was just reading because I felt like I should.
Nope.
One of the best reading lessons I've learned over the years is that life is too short to finish books you're actively avoiding. There are literally thousands of incredible stories waiting on my shelves and my Kindle. Why spend days forcing my way through one that's making me sigh every few pages?
So I DNF'd it. No guilt. No regrets. Just relief.
I wouldn't recommend it. If inconsistent world-building, passive characters, and inexplicable sweaty romance are your thing, you may have a completely different experience. As for me, I'm off to find a book where the characters make sense. And preferably keep their shirts on.
