Marabou Stork Nightmares. Craziest and darkest book I’ve ever read. Beware, has every trigger you can think of.

I personally couldn’t give a little rat’s ass about representation (and I am from a couple of minority groups myself so trust me, I am allowed to say that) So that argument doesn’t hold much water for me. But moving on, I’ve given romance books many chances, and time and time again found that the writing is bad, the characters are underwhelming, and everything is very shallow. I have nothing against incorporating romance into a novel, but the genre is a giant cringefest. And I don’t think my not enjoying romance has anything to do with me being male. It’s genuinely a very lazy, surface level genre.

I LOVE Lolita, I think it’s brilliant. Generally, I find that criticizing books over problematic subject matter just isn’t valid. Vile human beings exist, and writing about vile things is no crime. I love how uncomfortable that book made me. It’s part of the experience.

We Were Liars, Normal People, and Daisy Jones and The Six.
Such trash, jesus christ. Can’t figure out how people can even like these books, much less love them.