Hot for the Mob

Barbara Boinck

Boy, its nice to see that "adult" novels haven’t changed for the better in the past thirty or so years. In fact, they seem to have gotten quite a bit worse. Not from the standpoint of the sexual content therein (where "worse" would at best be a subjective judgment in the first place), but in the writing. Thank whatever spirits necessary for the existence of writers like Peter Sotos, Serdar Yegulalp, and Pan Pantziarka. Without them, the wonderful world of erotica- bordering-on-pornography would be a barren wasteland.

People’s Exhibit A: Hot for the Mob. Stupid title, even more stupid pseudonym, and writing so bad one can open to a random page, let one’s eyes fall anywhere, and come up with a sentence or two sure to cause gastroenteritis in even the most thick-headed of readers. In fact, I’ll do it. (I’ll admit it took three attempts in order to keep this a family friendly review.) From page 60: "We were suddenly outside. The night air hit me like a frigid blast. I was confused whether it was a drop in temperature or the reality of trepidation." [sic]. In more ways than one.

Best thing about it? The length. You’re only tortured by this prose for about thirty thousand words. I originally had this down for one star, but revised it down to zero upon further reflection. You’d do better with the Penthouse magazine paint by numbers set. You’d probably come up with something more original, too. (zip, nix, nada, nil, zero.)