I’m a sucker for a good romantic novel. One with a chivalrous man, who destroys my perceptions of all other men. One with a heroine, who has some quality I would kill to possess. Set in a picturesque place, be it an imaginary castle or the jungle of New York City. Once I pick it up, I’m enchanted, enthralled, snared by this book until the last vow of love is uttered. I usually won’t discriminate when it comes to books, but when the author is Nicholas Sparks, I long to run the story through with Prince Charming’s sword. Throwing them against the wall in anger and frustration will have to suffice.
I will acknowledge that Nicholas Sparks is a celebrated author, famous for capturing the lovesick hearts of women around the world with his words. But Ladies, have you realized that this man may be the greatest con artist of all time? He has made millions off of torturing us to the point of sobbing, our hearts breaking time and time again! Has anyone ever noticed the makeup of a Nicholas Sparks novel? I will let this handy dandy diagram break the news gently to you (courtesy of Cracked.com).
Ladies, this man is a one-note evil genius. He ropes us in with a love story that pulls at our heartstrings and leaves us craving more. You ravenously read, laughing, tearing up, rooting for the couple with all your heart and soul… then he calls in what I have affectionately cursed and shouted: THE HAMMER OF DEATH.
This is what I mean:
Walk to Remember: Jamie gets leukemia.
Nights in Rodanthe: Paul goes to South America and gets killed in a flash flood/ mudslide.
The Notebook: Ally has Alzheimer’s and can’t remember her love.
The Last Song: Ronnie’s dad gets cancer.
Dear John: John is an amazing man and Savannah crushes his heart and takes all his money. (Proceed to throw book at wall.)
OK, that last one is a bit of an exaggeration, but you get my point? We get so wrapped up in this lovely tale and then Sparks just takes it from us! Yes, it’s supposed to be a wonderful story of devotion and love and change, but I know my heart can’t take anymore of this sadness. And my wall can’t take anymore books.