The Carnival Papers

Carnal Knowledge

Code of Heaven by Susan Witherbee is without a doubt the worst book I have ever read.  The story—if this jumbled mess can be considered a story—is told through a series of random flashbacks that confounded me as the reader and kept me from ever getting into the book.  Each flashback provides little more than a sketch of an event to confirm its existence rather than enlighten the reader on its significance; I would have preferred four or five detailed sequences instead of the half-baked scattershot approach the author uses.

The characters are as flat and dull as the paper the novel is printed on.  Witherbee is more concerned with describing what the characters are wearing or what music they listen to than with what they think and feel.  Joshua, the “hero” of the story, is so morally bankrupt that I anxiously awaited for his inevitable, not tragic, death.  Sarah, Joshua’s love interest, comes off as a whiny, pampered princess whose sole function is to pine after Joshua and nurse him on occasion.  As for the secondary characters, they were little more than sounding boards, extras, and cheerleaders; none of them had any personality to speak of.

The author’s prose is a mockery to anyone who appreciates real literature; I’m amazed an editor let this horrid trash out the door.  Of course it helps that her father is CEO for the world’s largest chemical company—my very own Herbert Chemical.  I’m sure a few briefcases full of cash helped to grease the wheels of the printing presses; what else can explain how such a travesty managed to infiltrate the bookshelves?

Even as I write this, Witherbee is already shooting up the bestseller list and looking for a buyer for the movie rights.  No doubt she’ll ask Daddy to get her the starring role.  I implore anyone reading this review not to encourage a spoiled brat playing at being an author; do not aid and abet the further decline of American literature.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Dante Randall hit the last key with a flourish and leaned back in his rickety wooden office chair.  How fitting that the review to put him over the top was directed at his most hated enemy.  If only he could get her to read it and see the look on her face, the humiliation would be priceless to watch.  In the semi-darkness of his basement lair, Dante imagined Susan Witherbee bursting into a fit of tears as she read his review. 

While he loaded the review to the BookBurners Web site, Dante considered where to file his copy of Code of Heaven.  The three rotting bookcases on the wall to his left, adjacent to the hot water heater, comprised his ‘Keepers’—the books he deemed worthy to retain.  Next to the bookshelves, a pair of dilapidated cardboard boxes, still smelling of the laundry detergent they had once contained, served as the final resting place for those books he would eventually sell to Steve’s Discount Book Shop to fund his future purchases.  Dante wasted little time in tossing Witherbee’s book in one of the cardboard boxes.  He turned back to his ancient computer and logged in to the BookBurners home page.

As soon as he copied the text of his review into the form and hit the Submit button, he became the site’s top reviewer.  In five years Dante—under the pseudonym Book Justice—had reviewed five hundred books, just one more than his long-time nemesis Sir Readsalot.  Like Susan Witherbee, Dante imagined the enigmatic Readsalot would burst into tears when he realized he had lost his title at last.

His mother spoiled his moment of triumph by calling down the stairs, “Dante, take out the trash!”

“In a couple minutes, Ma,” he shouted back.  He scrolled through the BookBurners site to read the other reviews of Code of Heaven, most by amateur hacks who couldn’t string together a single sentence.  No one—the mighty Sir Readsalot included—rivaled Dante’s combination of analytical skill, writing knowledge, and sharp wit.  The other reviewers all hailed Code of Heaven as “brilliant”, “bold”, and “amazing” while crowning Susan Witherbee as, “a powerful new voice in American literature” and “the reigning queen of the literary world”.