
The Beast by Jonathan Fast, 1981
Grade: Who the fuck cares?
"Um, Anne," you say. "There is no review here. I'm looking for the copious, flowing paragraphs of excessive verbosity and I can't find them! What gives?"
This has a simple explanation: this book has nothing to do with the Phantom myth. So it's getting put aside for leisure reading at a later date when I feel like reading about deranged millionaires with horrific disfigurements and annoying leading ladies with crippling self-worth issues. Oh, and I'm in the mood to be reminded that all of womens' problems come from other women and their innately petty natures which cause them to snipe at each other out of the empty void where their souls should be. So that'll be a good time.
Well, to be fair, it doesn't have nothing to do with the Phantom myth; inasmuch as the Phantom story is a retelling of the Beauty and the Beast story, and so is this novel, they are connected. However, those people who pointed me toward it were apparently led astray by the fact that it involves an ugly crazy dude who wears a mask, because that's the entire sum of the parallels. The rest is just a tiresome Hollywood retelling of the story, one that attempts to use large quantities of sex and goriness to simulate a feeling of "reality" and "grit". It doesn't really succeed, or at least didn't in the few chapters I got into it. I gave up after a while and wandered off. I'm sure I'll finish it... someday.
So, anyway, I'm sticking it up here as an object lesson in failure, and to remind myself to be a little more careful about making sure I've got the right materials on hand when I do something. On to the next (more relevant) text!
And remember, kids--every woman secretly wants and needs to be mastered by a beastly, overpowering rapist in order to feel she has worth and a place in the world! Write that down. Them bitches need to be reminded their place sometimes (under the dude! hahaha!).
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