Oy vey.

The Mask by Donna Lee Poff, 1998

Grade: L for LoL

I know that the people who insist that I've left an important book off my list mean well, but... some books do not need to be on my list. They just don't. This is one of them.

Despite the mask on the cover, which hilariously resembles the one from the 1989 Pachard/Gillis adult film, this book has nothing whatsoever to do with the Phantom story, which became apparent after about four chapters of reading. A slightly disfigured dude does not a Phantom story make, especially when he does nothing else related over the course of the entire novel. And I have to say, I'm pretty glad it turned out not to be a book I had to finish, because Mother Teresa would have said bluntly that it sucks. I mean... there's some entertainment value in terrible dialogue, bad prose, and wild anachronism, but I can only take so much "tis"ing and "thee"ing in inappropriate places. It's bad for my constitution and my complexion.

A sample for you--the very first three paragraphs of the book:

"His journey had ended, but the wanderer felt neither joy nor relief. Futility hung upon him like a cloak of lead.

Far had he traveled and for many years.

But all he had achieved was to return to where he began."

No, no. No need to thank me. It's my gift to you. So, anyway, totally unrelated, so I'm off to do something more productive with the next book.