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A review by lanidacey
Addicted by Zane
1.0
I hated this book. This is one of the worst books I've ever read, and finishing it felt as if I was plucking each hair out of my head one-by-one with hot iron tweezers. Worse, it's boring as hell. This book is supposed to be an erotic novel about a woman dealing with sex addition. There's nothing sexy about this book. There's nothing titillating about this book. I literally fell asleep reading it at one point.
The problems are many. Quotes included because you gotta see this shit to believe it.
1. To begin with, this book isn't about what it says it's about. The story supposedly follows a woman, Zoe, suffering a sex addiction ... except she's not?
No! It doesn't! Zoe sleeping around a lot does not mean she's a sex addict; she's just sexually frustrated wife in a marriage with a repressed man that she's sexually incompatible with. So she cheats on him with multiple people. A scummy thing to do, yes, but she never acts as if she doesn't have control of her behavior. She enjoys all her trysts in the moment and immediately after; the only grief she feels is caused by lying and cheating on her husband.
2. Everyone — Zoe, her therapist, her husband — acts like Zoe is some kind of wild and freaky sex maniac whose behavior is so deviant that the therapist has to call in a specialist to help Zoe gain control of her life.
This shit is so melodramatic and her sexcapades are so vanilla. She's not hooking up with random strangers, taking part in orgies, paying for sex, exploring any wild fetishes ... she just sleeps around a lot. The prose's constant exaggerations get so exhausting. It's like someone crying about their out-of-control drug habit when all they do is get drunk on the weekends. Yes, deal with it if becoming a problem, but there are people dealing with much worse.
3. The constant jive talk in urban fiction titles — not just this one — has left me with a seething hatred for the '90s. Zoe's inner monologue and all of the dialogue is full of so much bullshit slang that you can't take anyone seriously.
All these quotes are said by full grown people with jobs, mortgages and children.
4. The writing overall is just terrible, clunky, full of malapropisms and just unbelievable. None of the characters act like real people. Enjoy this ridiculous scene from celebratory dinner Zoe is having with her husband, Jason:
Where do I even fucking start? Why does she randomly just start making out with her husband in a family restaurant? Why does he — a man who has been very sexually repressed for much of the novel — allow her to? They're apparently going at it so hard that the owner — not a server, not another customer, the damn owner! — had to come by and tell them to knock that shit off. And WTF, "my bad"?????? Exclamation point????? (Oh, there are so many damn inappropriate exclamation points in this mess.) And why does she think the lady has no idea what that means? The entire book is written this way and it pisses me off to read it.
I just can't. There are so many details I'm not even including, but I just don't have the spoons to break it down: the shitty, shitty therapist; the disgusting way molestation and rape are handled in the book; the crappy stalker plot line that gets thrown in. Garbage. It's all garbage. I hate this book so much and I hate the genre that spawned it even more.
The problems are many. Quotes included because you gotta see this shit to believe it.
1. To begin with, this book isn't about what it says it's about. The story supposedly follows a woman, Zoe, suffering a sex addiction ... except she's not?
“Does having three lovers other than my husband constitute sexual addiction?”
No! It doesn't! Zoe sleeping around a lot does not mean she's a sex addict; she's just sexually frustrated wife in a marriage with a repressed man that she's sexually incompatible with. So she cheats on him with multiple people. A scummy thing to do, yes, but she never acts as if she doesn't have control of her behavior. She enjoys all her trysts in the moment and immediately after; the only grief she feels is caused by lying and cheating on her husband.
2. Everyone — Zoe, her therapist, her husband — acts like Zoe is some kind of wild and freaky sex maniac whose behavior is so deviant that the therapist has to call in a specialist to help Zoe gain control of her life.
Her hands started trembling, and I got the distinct impression she was more nervous than I was. I guess a woman who fucks men like she changes panties would make anyone uneasy.
This shit is so melodramatic and her sexcapades are so vanilla. She's not hooking up with random strangers, taking part in orgies, paying for sex, exploring any wild fetishes ... she just sleeps around a lot. The prose's constant exaggerations get so exhausting. It's like someone crying about their out-of-control drug habit when all they do is get drunk on the weekends. Yes, deal with it if becoming a problem, but there are people dealing with much worse.
3. The constant jive talk in urban fiction titles — not just this one — has left me with a seething hatred for the '90s. Zoe's inner monologue and all of the dialogue is full of so much bullshit slang that you can't take anyone seriously.
Damn, on a first-name basis already! I wondered if that meant hellified sex was right around the corner.
Like I said, I had seen his picture in the newspaper before but dayummmmmmmmm!!!!
“I do say so! Now, give me my tatas!”
All these quotes are said by full grown people with jobs, mortgages and children.
4. The writing overall is just terrible, clunky, full of malapropisms and just unbelievable. None of the characters act like real people. Enjoy this ridiculous scene from celebratory dinner Zoe is having with her husband, Jason:
I told him it was on and then got up from my chair, sat on his lap and starting tonguing the hell out of him. The woman that owned the place came over and asked us to stop because there were children present. I replied, “Oops, my bad!” She had no idea what the hell that meant but was clearly relieved when I returned to my seat.
Where do I even fucking start? Why does she randomly just start making out with her husband in a family restaurant? Why does he — a man who has been very sexually repressed for much of the novel — allow her to? They're apparently going at it so hard that the owner — not a server, not another customer, the damn owner! — had to come by and tell them to knock that shit off. And WTF, "my bad"?????? Exclamation point????? (Oh, there are so many damn inappropriate exclamation points in this mess.) And why does she think the lady has no idea what that means? The entire book is written this way and it pisses me off to read it.
I just can't. There are so many details I'm not even including, but I just don't have the spoons to break it down: the shitty, shitty therapist; the disgusting way molestation and rape are handled in the book; the crappy stalker plot line that gets thrown in. Garbage. It's all garbage. I hate this book so much and I hate the genre that spawned it even more.