The Psychopath Test

This book has many rabbit holes for you to fall down. Every other page I had to stop and Wikipedia some passing mention of a horrible crime, or odd footnote in history or culture that I'd never heard about. Oh, you would never read up about an awful crime/criminal on Wikipedia because you find it distasteful and don't want to know any of the terrifying details? Well, you are better than me. Also, why are you reading this blog? You got lost here on the way to cuteoverload.com, didn't you? It's okay. Shh, shh, stop crying.

Jon Ronson gets tasked with tracking down the creator of a mysterious handcrafted book, and that case leads him into an investigation of psychopathy - what it is, what it means, who defines it, and who might have it.

I dug this book, and have already started to tell some friends which of our OTHER friends are psychopaths. Yeah, I'm onto you. So it's great if you just want a new way to talk about people behind their backs. Endless fun!

If I am murdered, the list of my friends who I suspect to be emotionless killers is hidden in the lining of my tuxedo jacket - avenge my death!

4 shallow affects out of 5.

Chrysalids

First of all, I chose to use this cover as illustration because, and I can't stress this enough, this book has nothing to do with human/praying mantis hybrids wearing fur ruffs and samurai armor, and brandishing spears. Not once does this happen. If there is a book about that, send it to me, because it sounds great. But it's not this book.

This book is about less-dramatic mutants (your six-toed individuals, your telepathic individuals...etc. Well, actually, that's pretty much it). Our telepathic friends are living in a post-,post-,post-apocalyptic USA, where deviation from the norm is not tolerated. I first read this book in high school, and with the wisdom I've accumulated since then I now see that they were trying to teach us a *very special* lesson about tolerance, conformity, and nuclear fallout.

But I have ALWAYS loved mutants, because my mom has two earlobes on one ear. So, thanks for wasting my time, high school English class.

To summarize, John Wyndham is great and you knew that since you read Day of the Triffids and realized that plants are plotting against us, and secretly that's the reason you eat salad, not to watch your weight like you tell everyone.

6 toes out of 5! Hmm, no, it's not that good. You could also mutate fewer appendages, couldn't you? 3 super-strong radiation enhanced super-toes out of 5.

I Don't Care About Your Band

"Girrrrrrl." - My brain, to Julie Klausner, while reading her horrifying tales of dating hipster douchebags and hateful depressives of every variety and flavor. It's like watching a slasher movie, except instead of yelling "Don't open that door!" you're yelling...okay well you're yelling "Don't open that door!" but the guy behind it just treats you like shit instead of murdering you. Which is SCARIER? You decide!

Actually my favorite part of this book is when she talks about how your twenties are the worst years of your life that at the time you think are great. God, hindsight's a bitch. I don't care about your band! Or your stupid accounting internship! That felt good, let the healing process begin.

3.5 late-night booty calls out of 5.

The Devil All the Time

This book is...what's the opposite of chick lit? And don't say MAN lit, if "man lit" is a thing it's a genre only comprised of those Uncle John Bathroom Reader books and the memoirs of Tim Allen. I just mean that I would pay good money to see one of the ditzy (yet lovable) stiletto-clad heroines whose first world problems dominate those pastel-covered books enter the dark and grimy world Pollock created. Hi-larious hi-jinks would surely ensue!

Deadly road trips, a blood-soaked prayer log, a predatory holy man, a crooked sheriff - no one in this book is a good person, everyone does horrible things, and you'll be left squirming like a preacher getting insects poured over his head (oh yeah, that happens too. I had to put the book in the freezer, Joey style, after that one).

4 sweaty, dirty men's undershirts out of 5. Ugh. Disgusting.