A Bilious Attack

Every bloody bookshop I've ever gone into or used online has been bombarding me with emails letting me know that J. K. Rowling's "first novel for adults" is now available. Whoop-dee-fucking-doo; I don't care. The plot sounds like that of a minor money-losing British movie starring Judi Dench, the prose looks boring, and the cover is dull--but then, I suspect they could have jacketed it in poo-flecked human skin and it would still sell by the truckload.

Designer: don't know, don't care

I only wish they'd done a children's version of the cover, to match the "adult" covers for the Harry Potter books that self-deluding grown-ups bought so they could pretend they weren't reading children's books.

Sorry for the bile, but I used to work in a bookshop and I'd happily never hear about this writer and her books again.

The other incessant emails I'm getting are from Amazon: buy one post-apocalypse novel from them and they never stop sending you plugs for self-published/small-press zombie novels. I was particularly struck by the odd pathos of the plug on the front of this one.