etc.

Here’s the deal: when I made the decision to read audiobooks during my drive to work, I also made a subconscious decision to be less discerning about what books would make the cut, under the premise that anything remotely interesting would be better than the puerile, inane radio shows I’ve been listening to for the past year and a half. I have to be in the car for two hours a day anyway (more in traffic/weather), so even the lightest entertainment would be a bonus.

Wrong.

A bad audiobook when listened to in heavy commuting traffic on a snow-slippery road puts you in a bad mood. A very bad mood, in fact, and a very bad mood is no mood to be in when you’re sitting in heavy commuting traffic on a snow-slippery road. Three major strikes against this book: lame story, unimaginative writing, and ridiculous performance. It’s a murder-mystery with asinine expectations for the reader to suspend his/her disbelief and maybe its because I hardly ever read murder-mysteries but I found the whole thing schmaltzy at best and ludicrous at worst. And I think I was spoilt with Salman Rushdie reading the first audiobook I’ve ever listened to because I expected a reading, not a performance complete with nasty attempts at regional accents and overacted emotions. Some things are better left to the imagination.