bryonie's review
1.0
Ok, so as I am wont to do, I'm going to critique as I read. So here goes... (Just a heads up there's more profanity than usual in this review.)
I've just finished the first chapter and I'm all like 'what the fuck am I reading?' all over the place here. My first complaint is this... if you're going to use something in your book that actually exists, (in this instance, the NHL) you're only allowed to take so many liberties. Adding a player here or there, sure. But completely changing a team? Fuck no. New Jersey already HAS a team, and it's the Devils, not the Ice Cats... Strike one.
Second, and if you've read any more of my reviews, this is like a mantra of mine, don't treat your readers like we're a bunch of fucking morons. The first point above falls into this category too, but for this point I'll talk about a single sentence that is a complete load of horseshit. The sentence is this: 'Because they were playing in Denver, it was still only 9:00 pm.' (This is in reference to when the players have gotten off the ice, done their first round of post-game interviews half-naked in their locker room, showered and dressed, cried a little, done their second round of post-game interviews in street clothes somewhere in the building (which will take AT LEAST an hour because this is game 7 of the Stanley Cup playoffs), called mommy to cry some more, called girlfriend in X city, called girlfriend in Y city, called girlfriend in Z city, THEN actually are pushing open the doors of the rink to leave... oh wait, there's more... this is an away game... they STILL need to get their asses onto the team bus and go to the airport to fly home on the team chartered plane AS PER THEIR CONTRACTS WITH THE TEAM to clean out their lockers at their home arena and stuff.)
So, no, no, and a whole bucket full of octopuses (🐙) and fuck nos. NHL games usually start at either 7:00 pm or 7:30 pm local time (depends on the city, and sometimes they even start at 8!), and a regular length game (ie, no overtime) usually ends at about 10:30ish local time. The NHL rarely has afternoon games during the playoffs because of ad revenue and ticket sales, and that's the only way a game would end earlier than this (and this is game 7 of the Stanley Cup Finals... Afternoon game? I think not). Full stop. So in this book, we're in sudden death overtime. Let's do a little math shall we? I'm going to assume that the game starts at 7 pm local time. First, there's going to be a pregame thing (I'm going to include the anthems in this). This is the last game of the playoffs, so it's a given because they're going to parade the Stanley Cup around a little. Actual time of puck drop is now about 7:15ish. The average 20 min period takes about 45 min to an hour real time to play taking into account stoppages in play, injuries, and because the league wants to get as many ad breaks in as they can (because money, yo), and then a 15 min intermission. I'll just use 1 hour for a period and an intermission as a nice round number (and even THIS is highly unrealistic... it will generally be longer than this). So we're now looking at period 2 starting at 8:15, then period 3 starting at 9:15... well, there goes the game ending and them walking out the door at 9:00pm bullshit. Because we STILL have the entirety of period 3 to play, and then the 15 min intermission between period 3 and the overtime period to go (because the book says we're in sudden death overtime). Thumbs up on the research, girl. You just confirmed every guy's stereotype that women don't know shit about sports. Strike two.
Thirdly, what the fuck is up with the character names in this book? It read like someone got really drunk one night and followed a link off Facebook to some really bad stripper name generator, then actually used those names in this book. Sapphire, Emerald, Jessabelle and Tinkabelle anyone? Gag.
Ok... by what medical miracle could Isabelle be experiencing morning sickness less that 6 hours after she supposedly conceived? PUH-LEASE. And further to this, unless she didn't take her birth control pills for half the month, just the off chance of her actually getting pregnant under these circumstances is so astronomically low she might as well have been stuck by lighting twice while on that plane ride home, which also crashed into the ocean on the way there AND she also won the lottery at the same time. (We've run out of strikes here before I quit this book for good... Hmm, baseball metaphors while reviewing a hockey themed book? I may need to rethink this, but kick save and a beauty doesn't exactly fit...)
I'm having HUGE issues with the priorities in this book about what's important for us to know and what's not. One would think the interaction between Isabelle and JB at the resort would be kind of integral to the plot, but instead the entire week long trip is condensed into one minuscule chapter where 5 of those 7 days are condensed to one paragraph. Yet we're treated to a chapter long diatribe on JBs interactions with his family that don't mean shit in the scheme of things. And on top of this we have JB, while he was having dinner with his folks, pondering what a great time he had with her and how he fell in love with her. Um, excuse me? All we saw was him trying to get into her pants the first night they meet, then her caving the night before she left. When exactly did this falling in love shit happen? Off screen, apparently. You'd think that would be important enough to actually show us instead of the dumb-ass family reunion that JB practically loathed...
So fast-forward through half the book, where I didn't find a whole lot of really glaring dumb things to comment on, to when JB come clean with Issy about what role (or lack thereof) he wants to play in the life of his child (which in and of itself is bizarre considering how adamant he was earlier that it was not his child, and had to have DNA proof and all that shit). We have him reminiscing on his hockey life as a kid. Holy hell... Why on earth would you make your main character Canadian when you have no fucking clue what we are like (yes, I am Canadian...) and how things are done up here. First off, hockey in Canada, ESPECIALLY if you are a player, is a Religion. Yes, that's Religion with a capital R. I'd wager (no, I don't know for sure or have specific stats, but I doubt I'm far off) more people play some form of organized hockey (whether it's a house league, competitive league, or just shinny) than all other sports combined. As such, there are arenas EVERYWHERE, and leagues everywhere, and high-performance leagues everywhere. Until he hit Junior A hockey (and even then), he'd probably still be at home, none of this billeting shit. There are Junior A leagues in EVERY PROVINCE in Canada, and this is pretty much as high as you go until you're drafted by the NHL. Not only that, there is no way his parents would be as apathetic about his playing as they are, considering they would have had a second full time job (not to mention mortgaged everything to the hilt just to pay for him to play... Hey, THERE'S a great plot point that could have been used, JB's brothers resent him because of the debt he put his parents into for him to play at the level he does now... but wait, his parents and brothers are extraneous people in the story, so we don't give a fuck about them anyhow) just getting him to and from practices (4am practice is very much a reality here, because despite the fact that we have just about as many arenas as we do Tim Horton's here, ice time is STILL extremely hard to come by) and games and tournaments, etc. Stop trying to put American reality into a foreign setting. Canada is not an extension of the States. Full stop. (In short, JB should have never been a Canadian, except the author probably wanted some pretentious French-Canadian name...)
Hrm, my review is almost longer than the book at this point and I haven't even touched on what a complete douchebag JB is... He's a Dick with a capital D, an immature jerk that Issy should just take the money and run from. Sure, he's the baby-daddy and all that shit, but would you want him around your kids? I didn't think so. Then there's his come to Jesus moment at the end... Nope, not buying it, not for a second.
Ok... almost done this book. But at this point I'm holding my head trying to stop brain matter from leaking out my ears. The latest doozie is having the opening game of the season as an afternoon game. If I wasn't already all nice and comfy in bed I'm sure I'd be banging my head against the wall in frustration with this one. No. Professionl. Sports. Team. In. ANY. League. For. ANY. Sport. Would. Have. Their. Opening. Game. Outside. Of. Prime. Time. PERIOD. (The only exception for this, obviously, would be for sports that play almost exclusively on weekends like football, so weekend games could be in the afternoon since the vast majority of people don't work Saturday and/or Sunday.) Revenue is everything, and unless you are the New York Yankees you're not going to get a full house or TV ratings for an afternoon game. Ah hell, who am I kidding, I live in Leafs Nation, and there's a waiting list to get on the waiting list to become a season tickets holder, and even then, you could buy a small house with the money you have to pay just for the privilege of being able to buy the actual tickets themselves once you hit the top of the list. So maybe the Leafs would sell out despite how crappy our team is if their opening day game was in the afternoon.
Okay... one more point on afternoon games and I promise this will be the last... my god, EVERY GAME in this damn book is an afternoon game! For most teams, you can count the number of afternoon games they have in a season on one hand, yet it seems like every one they have is an afternoon game... this isn't baseball...
Hopefully this will be the final point I need to make... what's up with the super speed, lightning round labor that Issy has? Detroit isn't that far from New Jersey (1 hour 10 min flight), add on lightning speed arrival since he's on a charter flight so no airline bullshit to deal with, so it took him MAYBE 3 hours tops to get to the hospital and she's already popped that watermelon out and recovering? Damn that girl better start playing the Powerball...
Why in God's name is he calling a player to find out of he has to come to the game and not the coach directly? Holy moly the stupid is strong.
I've just finished the first chapter and I'm all like 'what the fuck am I reading?' all over the place here. My first complaint is this... if you're going to use something in your book that actually exists, (in this instance, the NHL) you're only allowed to take so many liberties. Adding a player here or there, sure. But completely changing a team? Fuck no. New Jersey already HAS a team, and it's the Devils, not the Ice Cats... Strike one.
Second, and if you've read any more of my reviews, this is like a mantra of mine, don't treat your readers like we're a bunch of fucking morons. The first point above falls into this category too, but for this point I'll talk about a single sentence that is a complete load of horseshit. The sentence is this: 'Because they were playing in Denver, it was still only 9:00 pm.' (This is in reference to when the players have gotten off the ice, done their first round of post-game interviews half-naked in their locker room, showered and dressed, cried a little, done their second round of post-game interviews in street clothes somewhere in the building (which will take AT LEAST an hour because this is game 7 of the Stanley Cup playoffs), called mommy to cry some more, called girlfriend in X city, called girlfriend in Y city, called girlfriend in Z city, THEN actually are pushing open the doors of the rink to leave... oh wait, there's more... this is an away game... they STILL need to get their asses onto the team bus and go to the airport to fly home on the team chartered plane AS PER THEIR CONTRACTS WITH THE TEAM to clean out their lockers at their home arena and stuff.)
So, no, no, and a whole bucket full of octopuses (🐙) and fuck nos. NHL games usually start at either 7:00 pm or 7:30 pm local time (depends on the city, and sometimes they even start at 8!), and a regular length game (ie, no overtime) usually ends at about 10:30ish local time. The NHL rarely has afternoon games during the playoffs because of ad revenue and ticket sales, and that's the only way a game would end earlier than this (and this is game 7 of the Stanley Cup Finals... Afternoon game? I think not). Full stop. So in this book, we're in sudden death overtime. Let's do a little math shall we? I'm going to assume that the game starts at 7 pm local time. First, there's going to be a pregame thing (I'm going to include the anthems in this). This is the last game of the playoffs, so it's a given because they're going to parade the Stanley Cup around a little. Actual time of puck drop is now about 7:15ish. The average 20 min period takes about 45 min to an hour real time to play taking into account stoppages in play, injuries, and because the league wants to get as many ad breaks in as they can (because money, yo), and then a 15 min intermission. I'll just use 1 hour for a period and an intermission as a nice round number (and even THIS is highly unrealistic... it will generally be longer than this). So we're now looking at period 2 starting at 8:15, then period 3 starting at 9:15... well, there goes the game ending and them walking out the door at 9:00pm bullshit. Because we STILL have the entirety of period 3 to play, and then the 15 min intermission between period 3 and the overtime period to go (because the book says we're in sudden death overtime). Thumbs up on the research, girl. You just confirmed every guy's stereotype that women don't know shit about sports. Strike two.
Thirdly, what the fuck is up with the character names in this book? It read like someone got really drunk one night and followed a link off Facebook to some really bad stripper name generator, then actually used those names in this book. Sapphire, Emerald, Jessabelle and Tinkabelle anyone? Gag.
Ok... by what medical miracle could Isabelle be experiencing morning sickness less that 6 hours after she supposedly conceived? PUH-LEASE. And further to this, unless she didn't take her birth control pills for half the month, just the off chance of her actually getting pregnant under these circumstances is so astronomically low she might as well have been stuck by lighting twice while on that plane ride home, which also crashed into the ocean on the way there AND she also won the lottery at the same time. (We've run out of strikes here before I quit this book for good... Hmm, baseball metaphors while reviewing a hockey themed book? I may need to rethink this, but kick save and a beauty doesn't exactly fit...)
I'm having HUGE issues with the priorities in this book about what's important for us to know and what's not. One would think the interaction between Isabelle and JB at the resort would be kind of integral to the plot, but instead the entire week long trip is condensed into one minuscule chapter where 5 of those 7 days are condensed to one paragraph. Yet we're treated to a chapter long diatribe on JBs interactions with his family that don't mean shit in the scheme of things. And on top of this we have JB, while he was having dinner with his folks, pondering what a great time he had with her and how he fell in love with her. Um, excuse me? All we saw was him trying to get into her pants the first night they meet, then her caving the night before she left. When exactly did this falling in love shit happen? Off screen, apparently. You'd think that would be important enough to actually show us instead of the dumb-ass family reunion that JB practically loathed...
So fast-forward through half the book, where I didn't find a whole lot of really glaring dumb things to comment on, to when JB come clean with Issy about what role (or lack thereof) he wants to play in the life of his child (which in and of itself is bizarre considering how adamant he was earlier that it was not his child, and had to have DNA proof and all that shit). We have him reminiscing on his hockey life as a kid. Holy hell... Why on earth would you make your main character Canadian when you have no fucking clue what we are like (yes, I am Canadian...) and how things are done up here. First off, hockey in Canada, ESPECIALLY if you are a player, is a Religion. Yes, that's Religion with a capital R. I'd wager (no, I don't know for sure or have specific stats, but I doubt I'm far off) more people play some form of organized hockey (whether it's a house league, competitive league, or just shinny) than all other sports combined. As such, there are arenas EVERYWHERE, and leagues everywhere, and high-performance leagues everywhere. Until he hit Junior A hockey (and even then), he'd probably still be at home, none of this billeting shit. There are Junior A leagues in EVERY PROVINCE in Canada, and this is pretty much as high as you go until you're drafted by the NHL. Not only that, there is no way his parents would be as apathetic about his playing as they are, considering they would have had a second full time job (not to mention mortgaged everything to the hilt just to pay for him to play... Hey, THERE'S a great plot point that could have been used, JB's brothers resent him because of the debt he put his parents into for him to play at the level he does now... but wait, his parents and brothers are extraneous people in the story, so we don't give a fuck about them anyhow) just getting him to and from practices (4am practice is very much a reality here, because despite the fact that we have just about as many arenas as we do Tim Horton's here, ice time is STILL extremely hard to come by) and games and tournaments, etc. Stop trying to put American reality into a foreign setting. Canada is not an extension of the States. Full stop. (In short, JB should have never been a Canadian, except the author probably wanted some pretentious French-Canadian name...)
Hrm, my review is almost longer than the book at this point and I haven't even touched on what a complete douchebag JB is... He's a Dick with a capital D, an immature jerk that Issy should just take the money and run from. Sure, he's the baby-daddy and all that shit, but would you want him around your kids? I didn't think so. Then there's his come to Jesus moment at the end... Nope, not buying it, not for a second.
Ok... almost done this book. But at this point I'm holding my head trying to stop brain matter from leaking out my ears. The latest doozie is having the opening game of the season as an afternoon game. If I wasn't already all nice and comfy in bed I'm sure I'd be banging my head against the wall in frustration with this one. No. Professionl. Sports. Team. In. ANY. League. For. ANY. Sport. Would. Have. Their. Opening. Game. Outside. Of. Prime. Time. PERIOD. (The only exception for this, obviously, would be for sports that play almost exclusively on weekends like football, so weekend games could be in the afternoon since the vast majority of people don't work Saturday and/or Sunday.) Revenue is everything, and unless you are the New York Yankees you're not going to get a full house or TV ratings for an afternoon game. Ah hell, who am I kidding, I live in Leafs Nation, and there's a waiting list to get on the waiting list to become a season tickets holder, and even then, you could buy a small house with the money you have to pay just for the privilege of being able to buy the actual tickets themselves once you hit the top of the list. So maybe the Leafs would sell out despite how crappy our team is if their opening day game was in the afternoon.
Okay... one more point on afternoon games and I promise this will be the last... my god, EVERY GAME in this damn book is an afternoon game! For most teams, you can count the number of afternoon games they have in a season on one hand, yet it seems like every one they have is an afternoon game... this isn't baseball...
Hopefully this will be the final point I need to make... what's up with the super speed, lightning round labor that Issy has? Detroit isn't that far from New Jersey (1 hour 10 min flight), add on lightning speed arrival since he's on a charter flight so no airline bullshit to deal with, so it took him MAYBE 3 hours tops to get to the hospital and she's already popped that watermelon out and recovering? Damn that girl better start playing the Powerball...
Why in God's name is he calling a player to find out of he has to come to the game and not the coach directly? Holy moly the stupid is strong.
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