[1letterunixname]

It was a dark and stormy night. The characters were one-dimensional clichés who died just as quickly as they arrived. There was no continuity at all, no foreshadowing, and a snap ending. Even more impressively, suspension of disbelief was impossible because it jumped around like a fucking ping-pong-ball without any purpose, detail, or depth; saying "fuck you" to the entire genre of magical realism. In addition, it was marketed as a sci-fi western romance novel mystery adventure detective novel. Also, they had a terrible editor. But thankfully, they also had a terrible literary agent, so no one but a retired grandmother of 5 read it after purchasing it without thinking for 50 cents at the library's book sale. The end.

PS: Also, have a plain dust jacket. Never nuclear pink, orange, or yellow.