So I borrowed a high brow British crime novel from the library. Ruth Rendell, An Unkindness of Ravens. Okay, maybe not very high brow. Here’s a picture.

It is sad that library technology has forced barcodes to be put on top of book titles or authors.  I’m not very good at reading barcodes

Then I opened the book.

Note how classy that title is: the curlicue on the V is chopped off…

Um, what was that again? The Vampire’s Betrayal: Raven Hart? Trashy vampire romance? Twitch. Yeuch. The writing makes Twilight look sophisticated. I checked the cover again to make sure I hadn’t somehow, insanely, picked up the wrong book. But to no avail.

On page 27, the sloppy supernatural drivel miraculously transforms back into the erudite and innately British crime novel. But I am forever scarred.

I couldn’t bear to read page 27.  Who knows what I have missed so far?

I shall never again be able to open a Ruth Rendell novel without fear and trepidation.