Author: Chuck Tingle
WhatWhat: Brad is on vacation with his wife, Carrie, when the latest Chuck Tingle makes him start to doubt his own existence while the universe around him becomes gayer.
As I said before, I’m a huge fan of Chuck’s work, although I am dubious about the idea that he is a real man out there in Billings, pounding away at the typewriter to create a seemingly endless supply of gay erotica. (loc 21)
Brad is so “relatable” as a character, isn’t he?
“Is that the name of the hotel?” I stammer, barely able to find the words. I feel sick to my stomach, a wave of nausea washing over me.
“Butt Point Suites?” my wife asks, walking up behind me.
I’m utterly dumbfounded. “I thought it was the Sandy Point Suites,” I protest. (loc 102)
I love it.
Suddenly, a whole team of handsome young football players burst into the lobby, shouting and cheering as they slap each other on the ass with playful enthusiasm. They are all shirtless, with boyish smiles and an intoxicating, vibrant charm. (loc 163)
Poor Brad becoming increasingly stressed as the universe around him reveals itself to be the Tingleverse is one of the funniest things I’ve read in ages. I need this to be a made-for-television movie or something.
The figure relaxing in the tub before me is not a man at all, but a swirling ethereal manifestation of my suffocating existential dread. (loc 217)
I hate when that happens.
Verdict: This is currently my second favourite book in the world, right behind Foucault’s Pendulum.