Book Talk :: The Mathematics of Love

The Mathematics of Love
by Emma Darwin

Movies have ratings. TV shows have ratings. Music and video games are even rated sometimes. All for the shocking purpose of warning consumers away from things they are likely to find offensive.

If only books had a similar rating system. It might go like this:

S -- Smutty
F -- Frequently Foul Language
Po -- Poorly Written
I -- Incredibly bad or nonexistent plot
Pr -- Pretentious use of Austen-era dialogue that totally misses the mark
B -- Badly conceived, badly delivered
E -- Emotionless, while trying to provoke the most intense of emotions

I could go on. But I've been trying to stifle my sarcastic streak. Ahem. If such a rating system existed, The Mathematics of Love by Emma Darwin would be plastered with all of the above warnings. I picked it up on a whim because I wanted a new book to read and I happened to be standing in a bookstore. Makes sense to buy a book, no?

The one I wanted to buy (Sunday Philosopher's Club by Alexander McCall Smith) was sold out. Perhaps I should have made the connection between a very popular and well-written book being sold out... and a table full of unwanted books that they were trying to con people into buying. Sucker. I fell for it. It looked promising so I bought it. Never again!

This book was so boring at most points that I had trouble keeping my brain focused enough to follow the slowly plodding plot. I found myself distracted by Dora the Explorer--Dora for pete's sake! If that's not sad, I don't know what is.

I almost didn't post the title on this blog, lest somebody get curious and actually buy it themselves. Then they would come to ME complaining about my reading habits. This book had no redeeming qualities that I can remember. It used controversy to shock--by which I mean, they threw in all sorts of plot elements that added nothing to the plot but were very modern and and edgy. It included a love triangle between an old man, his live-in-bisexual-partner-for-life and a 16-year-old girl. I think I'm gonna go vomit.

It included verbal abuse. Emotional abuse. Physical abuse. Sexual abuse. It had romantic encounters so thoroughly portrayed that I blushed as I tried to skim past them. Complete smut.

I can put up with edgy elements to a story if they are put in the proper light and show the true duality of human nature. I can handle the fact that this world ain't always pretty. But this was just cheap entertainment of the worst kind. It is an insult to Jane Austen that the author read Emma to try to get a feel for the dialogue of the day. The dialogue sounded forced and out of place.

I could go on, mostly because I need to expel the nastiness of reading this book from my mind. But for now I'll summarize by saying this is the first book I can remember actually throwing in the garbage can.

Grade :: F

My apologies to Emma Darwin, great-granddaughter of the Famous Darwin. If you're reading this, you have every right to mutter, "Bloody American! What does she know!"