In Cold Blood
The Golden Rule is: “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.”
The Golden Rule of the Internet is: “If you can’t say something nice, at least say something funny.”
That in mind, I would like to declare that In Cold Blood by Truman Capote is like the worst murder mystery ever written. If he tried to get a job working for the Law & Order franchise, DickWolf (his name should be one) would laugh him out of the office.
The other Golden Rule of the Internet is “NO SPOILERS!” so unfortunately, I cannot tell you exactly why this book was so terrible. But like the cruel, cruel Internet, it became a thing that I loved to hate: five pages in, I was convinced that I hated the book and yet I dutifully pulled it out on every commute until it was finished.
Well, give me a prize for amazing foresight. Because I truly did not like this book. I tried, believe me, I tried. But I cannot like this flimsy excuse for a narrative. It was boring. It was pointless. I got the distinct impression that I was reading a book filled with words to meet a quota, and not a story that poured out onto the pages.
I’m sorry, Internet. You were the one who convinced me I needed to read this book. You let me down. I love to hate you this way. I love to hate In Cold Blood. And for clear and perfectly valid reasons, much unlike…
Rule #2. No spoilers.