I've got 99 problems and this book is all of them.
***Before I begin, I'd like to say this review is going to have light spoilers. Also, I will write about some of the "sex" scenes that took place in here and, unfortunately, there is swearing. If this bothers you, do not continue to read this review.***
I know I said I was going to start writing my reviews in French along with my English translation to improve it, but my brain is far too preoccupied with words I need to say in my mother tongue. But one thing I can say in French about this book: jâai dĂŠtestĂŠ ce putain de livre de merde !Â
It's hard for me to write this, because I have so many things I want to write about. Therefore, this review is going to get chaotic.Â
I'm sorry, was this supposed to be about the Jazz Age or Tiny's hormones? Was I supposed to get lost inside the descriptions of the speakeasies, music, language, occasional one-night-stands, mafias, and everything that's supposed to be about the Jazz Age or was I supposed to feel "hot"/"swooned" from these pathetic (and hilarious) sex scenes and Tiny's incessant fangirling about how handsome the abusing and sexually manipulative asshole Enzo was?Â
No, not this Enzo:
Because this Enzo made me swoon.
I'm talking about this douchebag:
"Then he spun me around, twisting my right arm behind my back and crushing my chest to the wall."Â
And this:
"His grip tightened on my forearm. Threading his other hand into my hair, he made a fist at the base of my skull and tip my head back. 'I don't think you'll want your sister to hear the conversation we're going to have.' He spoke softly, venom oozing between his words. My scalp stung as he tightened his fingers."Â
He did a lot more abusive shit than this, yet Tiny doesn't give two complete fucks because he's handsome. No really, she makes excuses for him because he's just so gotdamn handsome despite the fact he's holding her father hostage.
"I tossed everything onto the bed. 'But the situation is a little strange.'
'Why?' [said Evelyn]
'Well, he's got a girl, for one. And he's sort of got my father too--he's Angel DiFore's son.'
Evelyn's jaw dropped open. 'Tiny, are you crazy? Don't you think it's a little dangerous to be fooling around with him?'
'More than a little,' I said, unbuttoning my blouse. 'But you'll understand when you see him.'"Â
No, Tiny, I don't understand. Frankly, I don't care that he's oh-so-handsome either because a) he's got a girl (as you've clearly stated and seen). b) he's holding your father hostage. c) he's abusive. and d) he's bloody awful at trying to swoon me: "I won't stop until you let me have my way. First with my fingers. Then with my tongue. Then with my big, hard cock" (186). Honest to god I laughed out loud in public and a woman looked at me like I was crazy. I was not amused throughout this entire read. Right off the back there's "insta-love." Tiny sounded like a 13-year-old. Every little thing turned her on: from smoking a cigarette to a single look. She even got jealous of her own little sister when Joey was teaching her how to cook.Â
I hated Tiny. She's not a heroine, she's not a bad-ass flapper. Actually, Tiny reminds me of me when I was 12-years-old. I was a poser. I walked around holding a skateboard thinking I was one those skaters and wearing my brothers' tee-shirts (i.e. Metallica, Slipknot, Rage Against the Machine, etc.) In reality, I never knew how to ride a board, and I could only name one song from each of those bands previously mentioned. This is how Tiny was. She could wear the beads, the headbands, the red lipstick, and short dresses. She could attend to the speakeasies and try to speak like a flapper, but in the end, she's not. Rosie, on the other hand, was a flapper; it sucks that she appeared in this book 2 times. However, those two appearances were gold.Â
This book is nothing like the Jazz Age. I'm disappointed by this, too. I adore the era, the women, the fashion, the language, the music... everything. I only received a taste from this with the occasional mafias, a description of a speakeasy, and Rosie (seriously, I loved this character).Â
Why? Why do authors have to write about abusive relationships with a weak heroine? Why do they market this shit?Â
Tiny was a genuinely stupid protagonist, she was.Â
Exhibit A:
"We cleaned up and walked over to Bridget's where she served us meatloaf, green beans, and mash potatoes . . . watching Mary Grace gobble it all up, a wave of guilt washed over me. I never served meals like this--how the hell did you turn meat into loaf anyway?"Â
Exhibit B:
"'You know, eventually you're going to have to tell me about him." She winked at me over her shoulder. 'Maybe it's not Joey, but there certainly is someone. I can smell it.'
My heart stopped. Could she really smell Enzo on me? I sniffed my arm."Â
I could go on for a very long time about this fictional character, but I'm not even going to waste my time.Â
I knew what I was getting into regarding the love-triangle between Joey, Enzo, and Tiny. The synopsis clearly states this, but I didn't mind because it's the 1920s--a flapper never went out with just one guy. They wanted to live their lives and hold on to their youth. Life was just too short for them so they did as they pleased. But I wasn't expecting the love-triangle to be this fucking pathetic. How was Tiny having such a difficult choosing who she wanted? Joey--the guy who had her back through all the bullshit that started going down regarding her father, the guy who's actually a gentleman and said things that did make me smirk... or Enzo--(read aforementioned passages of this asshole)?Â
-sighs- This book sucked. If you want to read something that's really about the Jazz Age, read The Diviners, Bright Young Things, and Vixen instead.
I cannot believe I wasted $9 on this. SMH.