Samuel Alexander, $3.99, ISBN 978-1005642471
Contemporary Romance, 2021
When I read the first page of Samuel Alexander’s Delusional Love, my first thought is that I’m likely reading the work of a first time author. Imagine my surprise when I take a peek at the author’s catalog and realize that he’s already had a handful of titles out prior to this one.
My assumption arises because of the author’s tendency to over-describe everything. even minutiae that ends up adding nothing to the overall scene.
There is also a lack of variation in sentence structure and narrative voice—every sentence here has a relentless staccato pattern, making things rather detached and monotonous to read.
Furthermore, characters indulge in conversations solely to dump background information to the reader in a very obvious “We both know this already, but let’s just rehash all the details nonetheless for no good reason, other than we are in a story and the reader needs to keep up with us!” manner.
All of these are still okay if this had been a story for very young readers, perhaps a kiddie book to teach little tykes the basics of the English language. Unfortunately, this is a love story between Sandjai, the hottie, and Bryan, the plain and pudgy guy that is also depressive and suicidal because it isn’t a gay romance unless one of them roils around in faux anguish while a hot guy assures him that he’s absolutely the best and awesome and what not.
There are, therefore, themes and scenes that are best kept aside until readers of kiddie stories are older. Sure, Pudgy calls Hot Boyfriend his “bestest friend” in a way that kiddies may relate to, but I really don’t think these kids need to be reading about Pudgy going down on Hottie in graphic detail, right down to the stuff leaking out eagerly from Hottie’s pee-pee slit.
What, you think I’m being rude and fat shaming porkies everywhere by calling Bryan “Pudgy”? Let me quote the author himself:
“Fuck. Don’t move. Give me a minute. Shit, Pudgy. Your ass is fucking amazing.”
See? No body shaming here, folks. I’m just using Hottie’s term of endearment for that walking pork ball.
Wait, what’s this?
Drip drop, pit pat,
The rain it falls on my heart doing what it does best
Help things grow
It’s the sweet nectar of the gods designed to nourish things that are and
wash away the things that no longer need to be
Encourage life to prosper… succeed
But not for me
Is this some kind of purple porn? I mean, these two did do a lot of nectar oozing and wooshing after all…
“It’s poetry.”
Get out of here, Hottie. He’s clearly saying that so that he keeps getting access to that fat ass.
“Seriously, you guys have other friends. I’m perfectly capable of coming out here by myself. I’m sixteen. Have my own car. You don’t have to be bored on weekends listening to me read morbid poetry.”
Crap, at least Pudgy’s friends are listening to his poetry for free. I paid money to be subjected to italicized nectars oozing down his… things that no longer need be, whatever they are.
“We can do that stuff any day. It’s not that often you want to get out and do what you do,” Jess responded.
“Yeah. We are here for you, Pudgy,” Lucas added.
Why is that annoying Friendship Is Magic song from My Little Pony playing in my head now? Please make it stop.
“‘Yet each time the clouds come by, and I have a chance to cleanse my life I put forth the beauty of my forest in full glory and the water, it believes the charade and helps nurture my pain with healing rains.’ That’s it right there. It’s just so good it’s…” Sandjai stopped as if he was looking for a word.
No amount of alcohol can convince me that he’s sincere. Dude is saying this so that he keeps getting ass.
I have to give Samuel Alexander this, though. The final few sentences of this story are, perhaps unintentionally, perfect.
Bryan looked back up at Sandjai, smiled, then turned and walked out the door without even a glance back.
No more words.
He just left Sandjai standing alone in his room, in silence.
That’s actually a great way to end the story. Short, simple, and yet, it leaves so many things said, without needless words or exposition, in a way that allows the reader’s imagination to fill in the blanks. The fact that the story up to that point is a bizarre mishmash of child-like narrative and incongruously adult sex scenes, delivered in a heavy-handed manner that leaves nothing to the imagination, has me suspecting that this stroke of brilliance may have come to be by lucky accident.
Will I recommend this thing? Well, only to folks that are so used to amateur fiction on Wattpad and other places that they can overlook or accept the sloppy shortcomings in the author’s technique.
Still, a part of me thinks of the way the story ends, and I do wonder. I would like to imagine that, perhaps with some tighter editing and maybe some polish that would come with experience or writing classes or whatever, the author may just serve up something better one day.
