Author: Hollis Shiloh
Publisher: Amazon
Rating: WARTY!
pub.
This novel sounded really interesting from the blurb (but then don't they all?!). The premise is quite odd. It's a retired boxer telling his story of his encounters with a younger man, Marco, who provides physical therapy, but who does it by magic, not by science. Clearly this is a premise ripe for erotica, and that would be fine if that's what you're into, but I was hoping for more than that, otherwise why introduce magic? The problem was that I didn't get more, I got less. And I'm not into erotica. Nor am I into first person PoV stories which present the narrator as any more self-obsessed than first person PoV already implies.
I should have known this was going south when I read the names of the two main characters: Jace and Marco. Honestly? Why not just name them Trope and Cliché? But you know I could have managed even that had there been something worth reading. There wasn't. The entire text, for the portion that I read, consisted of Jace's internal monologue as he went back and forth to his magical therapy with Marco. There was absolutely nothing whatsoever to build any atmosphere. There was no description of the surroundings - the sights, the sounds, the smells, the feel of the place. Even when Marco made physical contact while applying his magical remedy, there was nothing - no spark - nothing! It was just conversation and internalizing, and even that had problems.
Jace was constantly aware of everything which Marco did and said, almost to the point of monitoring his heartbeat, and the signals of Marco's interest in Jace were crystal clear to anyone who wasn't a moron, yet for no reason whatsoever (at least none that was made plain to this reader), this moron was dismissing it all, almost with a sense of desperate panic, like this interest would sully him somehow. Oh, look at his wide eyes when he looks at me. No he's not interested. Oh, he touched me again! No this could never happen. He's smiling at me in that special way. He must not like me at all. He's so very attentive to me. He obviously can't stand me. I am not kidding, it was like that all the way though and it was tedious reading.
Here's an example of the author striving for erotic content, describing the two of them sitting in the park eating soft pretzels they just bought:
I took one last bite slowly, and then looked down at my salty, sticky fingers and brushed them on the edges of my trousers. It would just be cruel to suck them one by one, in front of him.
Self-obsess much? You know, if it has been just the one thing, in a decent context, or said in fun or self-deprecatingly, it would have been fine, but it wasn't. This was one of many such comments very early in the story, and it makes no sense, since they had pretty much just met. How much self-adoration in a main character can a reader stand?! Whatever the limit is, it was exceeded astronomically here, and clearly what the author is telling us is that this isn't a romance at all - it's just lust and sex and there's nothing else to it. It was at that point, at the quote above, that I quit reading this.
Rather than take the road less traveled, the author went by mass transit, and I'm not interested in that. I'm not interested in the path most trampled, but that wasn't the worst offense believe it or not! Note that these are two adult guys, but there is a large age difference between them. That wouldn't have been a problem except that every time Jace thinks about Marco, it's in terms of Marco being a child: large eyes, soft lips, smooth skin, small buttocks. He's infantilizing this guy continually, and it's all physical.
There are homophobic morons out there who are so stupid that they cannot even begin to grasp the quantum gap between pedophilia and male homosexuality. Intriguingly, these same people never conflate pedophilia and lesbianism - that ought to tell you all you need to know about what ignorant bigots they are. That said though, I honestly don't think it's a good idea to risk handing these jerks any more ammunition - through writing poorly - than they've already invented for themselves, when it's just as easy to go the extra mile and produce original and inventive ways of describing love in fiction.
I can't recommend this.
