Tonight marks the third time in the past few months I’ve had to throw a book out. Why? Simply because the authors could not restrain their language. I’m talking about really good books. Books that have me enthralled after one chapter and then all of a sudden they feel like cursing the name of Christ for no apparent reason!
I suppose tonight’s failure is worse for me because it’s a book that I’ve been wanting to read for four months now. The backmatter jumped out at me from the moment I picked it up, but it was declared a Christmas present and so I had to wait, knowing it was hiding in my sister’s closet, knowing it was wrapped under the tree, assured that sooner or later I would get a chance to sit down and read it.
It was so good! Four chapters in and I was captivated…and then all of a sudden the heroine felt the need to describe something by using the name of Christ…well, out of context. I tolerate very little language as it is, but that particular one guarantees a trip to the trash can.
(Sigh) Still, I’d much rather have nothing to read than to spend my time on an author who apparently has a limited range of adjectives.
...Off in search of something better...