Review: Blackbirds by Chuck Wendig

I really wanted to love Blackbirds because I’m a fan of your Terribleminds website.  Your advice to writers — your brass knuckled advice to writers — is great stuff.  You’re a no-nonsense kind of writer.

But I have to say “Sorry Chuck, I liked it but I didn’t love it.”  I’ll give you an “A” for originality because I haven’t read anything like it before.  It had a nice twist at the end, and I was really curious about how Miriam could possibly extricate herself from her predicament.  But overall I had to grade you down in the language department.  And I just wasn’t wrapped up the characters.  I wasn’t sucked into their shoes, and I think that goes back to the language (but I could be wrong).

Blackbirds has a sweaty-balled kind of beauty.  Like a rusty diamond plate bumper on a big rig, you slam the reader down the road and into the guardrail of literature.  You are a true artist in the realm of swearing.  But for me, this was Italian food.  There’s nothing wrong with Italian food.  Millions of people love it.  But me, I’m just not a fan of pasta.  I prefer pretty language.  I’m a sucker for it.  The Catcher in the Rye is raw, there’s sex and swearing, but it’s beautiful to read.

But I suppose we can’t all be Salinger, and you aren’t trying to be, so that’s not a fair thing to expect from you.  It’s a solid book, fun and fast-paced.  I’ll give you a “B.”  Not that you give a flying frick through a rolling doughnut what I think, of course.

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