Lord Vishnu's Love Handles by Will Clarke - P

I made a horrible mistake by reading this book. I was under the impression that it was a comedy, but I don’t think it actually is. I didn’t laugh once. Hell, I didn’t even smile.

At present, there is no book description of it on Goodreads, just the words “AUCTION DESCRIPTION”, whatever the fuck that means, so I must have been suckered in by the title. They say you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover and that sure as shit includes the title. Just because the title’s good doesn’t mean the story is.

But even if I hadn’t been judging this book as a comedy for my Comedic Novel Review, like if I had been reading it for the Entertaining Book Review or the Kinda Worth Reading Book Review or even the Soup Bowl Full of Diarrhea Book Review, reading this book was a mistake of epic proportion.

It sucked.

Big time.

The story is narrated by the protagonist, Travis Anderson, a hard-drinking, vision-seeing yuppie living in Dallas, Texas who loves his wife and child to no end. He has a kind of psychic gift where he just knows things, like the fact that his wife is cheating on him. This ability gets him recruited by a private company that was an offshoot of a top secret CIA psychic spy program which now offers remote viewing to find missing people.

I really liked this premise as I really enjoy stories infused with a touch of the supernatural. Watching him develop and use his remote viewing ability, watching him read the metaphors and symbols of his dreams to hunt down an antagonist and bring him to justice would have been highly entertaining.

But instead, the story devolves into a tired series of chase-like scenes where Travis is racing around like a chicken with its head cut off, speeding down the highway and of course crashing, and culminating in what amounts to a knife fight. None of those hackneyed situations involve psychic ability.

When reviewing books in general, this is the point where I would mention some of the positive attributes, but unfortunately, there weren’t any. There is nothing about this book whatsoever that I liked.

While brimming with potential, the plot ultimately sucked. The story was confused, nonsensical, and pointless.

The characters also sucked. Not one of them were likeable or interesting.

The protagonist was especially awful. He was irritating, clueless, and rash. Despite supposedly being psychic, he had the rationale and foresight of a lemming on meth.

At first, I was shaking my head at him. Then I was shaking my fist at the cuck. Next, I was so fucking frustrated by him that I was spiting on my Kindle, which I ultimately had to replace because I broke it with my forehead. Asshole. He’s so unbearable that it’s embarrassing. I’m honestly embarrassed for Clarke for creating such a shitty character. And to make him the main character is unforgiveable. In fact, I demand satisfaction. I demand seppuku. Clarke, hurry the fuck up and make this right by disemboweling yourself right now!

To sum up, this book is a confused waste of time. 1 pile of poop.

Incidentally, it’s clear that Clarke thinks he’s pretty cute by adding A Spy Novel (Sort Of) to the title, but what he’s churned out is nowhere near a spy novel. There is no spying whatsoever. It’s way more of a driving-fast-on-a-highway novel or a rushing-through-Disney-World-dressed-as-a-mascot-cause-you’re-an-idiot novel.

Bonus quote: (Well, not so much a quote, but the About the Author at the end of the book) Will Clarke doesn’t want you to know where he lives or what he’s doing next.

This was pretty much the only thing in the book that didn’t suck. And it’s a good thing he keeps his whereabouts a secret, because otherwise I’d be picketing in front of his house every day until he made up for his sin by offing himself.

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