In Which I Turn to Find the Postscript and Say “Are You Bloody Kidding Me?”

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The Labyrinth of Dreaming Books

Walter Moers

It is no secret that I loved The City of Dreaming Books, which is what prompted me to get this book as soon as it became available in Kindle form.

But this time the journey was a lot less fun. It took me weeks to finally finish the book, and I don’t think anyone can blame me. Nearly 70% of the book is spent on a brief city tour and a reminiscing of the previous book. Alright, the recollection of the events in the previous book are now in puppet form. Does it make things better?

No.

Because I hate puppets. Puppets suck and I hate puppets.

They are soldiers of Satan and they move when you’re not looking except they don’t throw you back in time and turn an otherwise decent episode into a terrible ending for a lovely pair of companions on a beloved television show.

[That escalated quickly.]

Anyway, it does not help that Moers spends a lot of time talking about the history of puppetism. I understand it’ll probably come in handy later on, but even so, it could have been done in a less tedious manner.

And then just as it’s about to get good, it ends.

I’m not kidding. I got a sense of foreboding when I saw the chapter title: “Labyrinth of Dreaming Books”. Finally! And then the postscript. You have got to be bloody kidding me. Why would any person not named George RR Martin do that to kind readers?

It is beyond me.

I am beyond pissed.

Of course I’ll get the next book. Moers is absolutely brilliant when he’s not being tedious, and I look forward to a better story now that we’ve got the history of fucking Zamonian puppetism out of the way.

Moers says this is where the story begins.

I say it bloody better be.

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