What made me buy Booty Nomad is anyone’s guess. I needed a book, any book and it seemed to the be one that stood out. I read a random page and liked it.
How wrong a random page can be. What I read was perhaps one of the few jokes that made me smile moderately. I should have known better than picking a book that was about male and female relationships – a topic that is about as interesting as watching dry paint dry even more. Addtionally it got the thumbs up from a tacky gossip magazine mostly read by women in the form of OK Magazine (women love gossip right? Some gene thing?) and of course Marie Claire, which just happens to be another magazine aimed at the female species.
Booty Nomad revolves around the life of David and his ex-girlfriend who hasn’t found closure and pratically stalks to the poor sod. He is the typical male character who is easy to hate for how he broke up with the girl, but the ladies love him in the end because he does the right thing, and he’s probably a Hugh Grant lookalike. And as we all know, if you’re good looking and being observed by the opposite sex, you can get away with murder.
Sold as, paraphrasing, “the men’s equivalent of Bridget Jones’s Diary” I really felt like slapping myself with a large baguette until I convinced myself I was a sandwich and could not read. I haven’t read Bridget Jones, I haven’t watched the films – I try to move away from the romantic comedies and move towards anything with pick axes and pandas in them. You just can’t beat a panda with a pick axe in a film.
Books like Booty Nomad are bad for books. I suppose you need the bad books to distinguish against the good
This book read likes a film script, it wants to be a film script and it has indeed become a film script. It has all the bloody romantic comedy cliches, include the serious and tender moments of closure. Booty Nomad is, for all intents and purposes, a chick flick. I read a chick flick, and it bored me to death. In case you’re wondering, this isn’t the male primitive fighting to suppress any enjoyment of a book that loves romantic monotony. The book was dull, it was repetitive and I would have prefered a few hours of violent torture with carrots to reading this book again. Hold the mayo.
There is one moment in the book that is enjoyable and that’s a mini easter egg hunt which adds a single moment of originality to a book that is filled with bad jokes, average writing and stereotypical characters that seem to suggest that generalisations are acceptable. It wreaks of tired ideas, and a severe lack of imagination that simply did not appeal to me. All the emotion seemed to revolve around a relationship that was over long ago, and one that seemed to involve everyone conveniently.
The book drags you through so many typical romantic comedy movie moments, such as kissing the wrong girl, falling for the wrong woman, the outburst with the slightly whacko family; it lacks so much originality that it is simply perfect for a Hollywood treatment where films of shallow value are ever popular. Much kudos to Mebus for pulling this one off. “I can see it now Mr Director – ‘Move Over Bridget Jones!’ – whddya think?”.
You can probably gather by now, or perhaps you were smart enough to guess from the opening paragraph, that I didn’t like this book very much. If it was 200 pages or so, it wouldn’t have made much difference to the story as we end up going round and round in circles and eventually there is an end. Except that it’s about 200 pages too long at nearly 400 pages of drivel in total.
What I read was perhaps one of the few jokes that made me smile moderately. I should have known better than picking a book that was about male and female relationships
I like books a lot. I like to read them and amateruishly write about them. I like books that make me think, make me laugh out loud like a spotty teenager at some juvenile joke, to become gripped in a fantastical thriller, or to be brought down to Earth with tragedies and events that truly affect the human spirit. I wasn’t expecting a £6.99 book to make want to jump off a cliff into oblivion or to make me want to chew off all my fingers in distraction. In that sense I got more than my money’s worth. I would have happily settled for a good book instead.
Books like Booty Nomad are bad for books. I suppose you need the bad books to distinguish against the good, but even so, books this bad shouldn’t make it to the shelves. It’s a trash novel. I was hoping I had lost it when I couldn’t find it. Such is my bloody luck though, as it was just gathering dust next to the empty bottle of vodka I drank to read this with in an attempt to repress any inflicted suicidal tendencies.
If you’re female you will probably love this book, and love the film and the bad guy turned good due to human emotion who will become the overnight rom com star, stereotyped for life. For people who want something more than bullshit out of a book, they should simply avoid this tripe.
Verdict: A book straight out of Satan’s rectum. Splash with holy water and burn the evil thing