Tons of my friends received an ARC of The Girls and my feed has been filled for months with updates/reviews detailing all of the awesome they were all experiencing . . .
Thanks for the warm welcome, John McClane, but I have a feeling you (along with everyone else) will soon be changing your tune.
Soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo, where should I begin?????? Maybe with . . .
Wait, that’s a lie. I do know what I expected . . .
“It was like a big fucking deal. Hippies killing these people out in Marin.”
If I’m presented with a synopsis that tells me I’m going to be reading a fictional take on the ladies behind the Manson Murders, I expect something twisted that would pull a real mindfuckeroo. I wanted to meet girls like these . . . .
What I got instead? A poor-little-rich-girl lead along with a supporting cast of characters who couldn't even be considered cardboard cutouts. They were more like shadows with zero dimension. And the story itself? NOTHING happened until the 90% mark which left a seriously angry Mitchell who looked a little something like this . . .
(My cell phone camera broke so I had to improvise. Donations for a replacement are gladly accepted.)
This just did not work for me at all. I hated the writing style, I like stories that are fresh and if you’re going to fictionalize one of the most famous events in U.S. history at least mix things up a teeny little bit (and I mean more than famous dude who was supposed to be the target of the murder being a musician rather than
Save me your trolling because my “friends” already beat you to it by saying they were going to have this sent to my house for not drinking the Cline Kool-Aid . . .
Emily is the only one of my friends who read this right like me. She is now my favorite, so there.
ARC provided by NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.