I haven’t been reading any fiction since quite some time. Why? For the simple reason that it is untrue and not very helpful therefore. But of late, I’d been feeling kind of curious about modern fiction, since everyone kept talking about it. So I thought I’d look through the fiction shelves of the library and maybe find something good. That was like going through the garbage in the hope of finding a diamond, but I did it.
I remember how everyone was talking about it when I entered college. I was unaware of it. Yes, ignorance was bliss. Then, my sister buckled under peer pressure, watched the movie and introduced me to it. Surely people seem to have a lot of free time on their hands to watch this crap.
This one I found on the shelf of the library where I go. The phrase “No Strings attached” to me sounds like travelling (for innocent purposes) the vast Earth without any hindrance from modern-day Pharoahs. Little did I know.
Had they only specified its correct genre (erotic literature) instead of making us think it was a spy fiction, this wouldn’t have happened: I read it!!!!! I really thought that once James comes in, we’d uncover some really interesting and ingenious enemy plan. . .but insurance!!!!!
P.S. In my defense, I was short of time and selecting books to take home for the holiday, and this one was kept right in the corner and it was thin and it was the famous Ian Fleming. . .so I got it issued from the library.
Just when I thought I knew what’s going on in the fiction world, I see this book on someone’s work desk and know that I am out of the loop again. I didn’t know people had started writing and reading shit like this. Was the author drinking? Was she broke and ready to go to great lengths for money? Is she related to the equally perverted Stephenie Meyer?
In reponse to WEEKLY WRITING CHALLENGE: THE BEST MEDICINE