Chocolat (Chocolat #1), by Joanne Harris

Chocolat by Joanne Harris


This is one of the rare occasions I’m giving up on a book but I just don’t enjoy this one at all… From the beginning, I’m confronted with “paranormal”, “supernatural” bullshit.

»My mother was a witch.«

Yes, sure… But that’s not all, superstition abounds…

»The forking of the fingers to divert the path of malchance.«

Then there’s the catholic priest… I despise anything related to so-called “churches” which, to me, are dens of bigotry, hypocrisy and a haven for hostile and misanthropic beliefs and people. And, worst of all, home to any kind of preacher (the child-molesting variety gets extra protection).

So, yes, even in a negative context as in this novel, I don’t want to hear about those male harpies.

Also, a novel that in all seriousness tells me »Scrying with chocolate is a difficult business.« is beyond redemption.

The 25% I’ve read were also very, very clichéd with simplistic characters, a heroine that left me entirely and completely devoid of interest in herself or her “illegitimate” daughter and parts that felt so old-fashioned I was afraid of dying of boredom.

When I realised I was actually binge-watching the worst kind of TV show just to avoid reading this one (despite having ample time to read after a minor (but really annoying!) surgery), I allowed myself to let this one go. Since I don’t feel I read enough to give a star rating, I’ll abstain for once.


Ceterum censeo Putin esse delendam




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