3 First Chapters That Made Me Stop Reading

ranked by how hard i threw them across the room

As the year draws to a close and I’m reviewing my 2022 TBR list, I realised that I haven’t read as many books as I intended. But it wasn’t for lack of trying — it is that I would start on a new book and be so put off by the first chapter that I can’t bear to squander the time or energy reading further.

So, because I am a hater first and reader second, I thought it’d make more sense for my year-in-review to comprise only of first chapters that were so bad even a disabled, dying child couldn’t spur me to read on. That was a Christmas Carol reference, pls don’t cancel me.

Shatter Me by Tahereh Mafi

shattered my will to live.

We will not address the terrifying cover. If we don’t look at it, maybe it will go away.

Anyway, I hated this this gave me the ick just one paragraph in.

The first chapter: Our heroine is in some kind of cell. 264 days have passed, 6,336 hours since she touched another human being — but hey, who’s counting? No, really. How is it possible for her to count every hour to the T, for 264 years, in a cell with nothing but a window? Maybe she’s learnt how to gauge the sun’s position by the shadows or whatever, but I doubt she’s that clever.

Suddenly, guards from The Reestablishment, the presumed governing entity of the post-apocalyptic world, toss a “b-b-b-b—boy” into her cell, and she absolutely loses her mind. Starts screaming, crying, throwing up (a very natural reaction, tbf). The chapter ends with him taking half of her bed as she scuttles into the far corner, hugging her knees and resolving not to sleep.

I have never DNFed something so swiftly and decidedly in my entire life. I never even learnt her name, and I’m perfectly okay with that. What’s up with the random strikethroughs, you ask? Well, it’s because every single paragraph in the chapter is full of them.

The use of first-person pronouns and intentionally amateur simple writing makes it obvious we’re reading her journal, so the strikethroughs would have been a nice touch… if they made an iota of sense.

Have you ever streamed a film online, and the subtitles were so utterly incorrect they seem to be for a completely different film, but you can’t toggle it off, so you’re stuck with weird subtitles for the entire duration? That’s what reading this felt like.

Exhibit A. Lifted straight from the page, no edits:

“You’re getting a cellmate roommate,” they said to me.

“We hope you rot to death in this place For good behavior,” they said to me.

“Another psycho just like you No more isolation,” they said to me.

I mean, is she hearing voices, or possessed by spirits that’re forcing her hand? Or are these just intrusive thoughts that she word-vomited onto the page and then changed her mind and scratched out?

Exhibit B. This was the one that did me in:

I only know that I was transported by someone in a white van who drove 6 hours and 37 minutes to get me here. I know I was handcuffed to my seat. I know I was strapped to my chair. I know my parents never bothered to say good-bye. I know I didn’t cry as I was taken away.

HUH??? I was convinced my copy of the e-book was bugging out, so I took a trip down to my local bookstore, and… that’s how it actually is. We’re only on Page 1, by the way. It gets worse when the random boy comes in and she has a full-on meltdown.

Exhibit C:

They locked me up with a boy. A boy.

Dear God.

They’re trying to kill me.

They’ve done it on purpose.

To torture me, to torment me, to keep me from sleeping through the night again. His arms are tatted up, half sleeves to his elbows. His eyebrow is missing a ring they must’ve confiscated. Dark blue eyes dark brown hair sharp jawling strong lean frame. Gorgeous Dangerous. Terrifying. Horrible.

WHAT IN THE WATTPAD AM I READING?? I actually laughed out loud. Her ridiculous dramatic reaction, the way it switched from freakout to a detailed, manic description of his physique, the strikethrough of the word ‘gorgeous’… maybe Tahereh Mafi should’ve written for comedy TV instead.

Oh, not to mention our heroine is writing all of this down with a “nearly useless pen with the very little ink [she’s] learned how to ration each day.” If this is her idea of rationing, I’m genuinely surprised she’s survived this long.

I also had a peek at the next chapter and caught this bit, which sent me into hysterics:

I am a raindrop.

My parents emptied their pockets of me and left me to evaporate on a concrete slab.

DNFed so hard I almost broke my iPad.

The Octunnumi — Fosbit Files Prologue by Trevor Alan Foris

capitalism really popped off with this one.

Wow, where do I begin with this one.

A few years ago, Tiktok was just proving to be a highly-lucrative platform for bookfluencers and publishers alike. And behind the noisy clamour of authors elbowing each other for the spotlight, Trevor Alan Foris was rubbing his hands with evil glee and thinking, “They want a hype? I’ll show them hype.”

And boy, did he show us. No expense was spared in the promotion of this book. Besides the Tiktoks and interactive website, it even boasts an AR app to get the best of your reading journey. But the ‘X’ factor is probably the unmatched unboxing experience. I’ll let this 60-second video speak for itself.

Fripperies aside, the book is positioned as a fantasy mystery. A lot of the plot is shrouded in mystery, anchored in Fosbit’s insistence that “The Octunnumi does not exist. Fosbit and any files relating to a Fosbit do not exist. The Tarelen peoples that protect and provide sanctuary for the Avitens of Fethrist are not real. And there is definitely no magic. None at all. No, really, there isn’t. Magic is not a thing.”

The first chapter: 18-year-old Octunnumi Alliance Operatives, Reigous and Tradien, are in a warehouse fighting some invisible enemy with laser guns. The offensive turns out to be a group of tiny girls…? Then a woman called Ectrovea materialises out of thin air. She’s described as “plain and beautiful, dull and immensely charming, the life and soul and the unseen”, and apparently has the ability to “be all things to all people in all places at all times”.

Ectrovea is revealed to be the girls’ teacher, and starts sweet-talking the two boys, talking about their ‘chiselled good looks” and “beautiful blue eyes”. As if seducing two 18-YEAR-OLDS isn’t creepy enough, she also talks about how handsome their dad is. Then she makes a grand exit, leaving them with the statement: “We at the Tuilieg Finishing School for young ladies are forever in your debt.”

I couldn’t tell you what was going on in that first chapter. Not for a million dollars. The writing is clunky and there’s too much action going on at once, such as lasers streaking everywhere mid-conversation and random switches from verbal to psychic dialogue. Because that’s a thing in this world.

To further convolute things, the prose is also littered with made-up words that are ugly, difficult to pronounce, and require constant reference to the little booklet of definitions and pronunciations that comes with the package — all of which, safe to say, makes for a supremely muddled first chapter and disruptive reading experience.

Take a look at this small excerpt:

Having made it over to the next pile of crates, Trad signals silently back to Reig across the void, to circle around while he heads for the stairs.

“Why me?” Reig mouths furiously. “You do it.”

Trad throws an exasperated look to the heavens.

Caught off guard, Reig’s head fills with Trad’s voice.

“Because I have them in my sights. I need a Scariodintt and unless you have one to hand… you are the Scariodintt.” He pauses for a moment, waiting for a response.

“Get out of my head, Trad.” Reig glares at his brother. “Not allowed to use our minds to communicate, remember?”

“You get out of mine,” he throws back as they stare at each other for a moment. “Whatever…” Trad’s voice fades as he leaves Reig’s head, at the same time mouthing a frustrated, “Well?” to his brother.

“Okay, okay,” Reig mouths back.

No explanation for anything is given (and according to Goodreads reviews, not for another 100-200 pages), so naturally, I have questions, like: WHO was caught off guard? Why did Trad randomly decided to start mentally communicating with Reig? It isn’t like they’re nearing enemy lines and have to be quiet, and if they are, I didn’t know that because nothing is stated clearly.

Most of the chapter is spent on inane back-and-forth between the boys amidst an onslaugh of laser beams, rather than establishing any context or goal of their mission. IMO, if you’re opening with a fantasy battle scene, I want to know the ‘Who’, ‘What’, and ‘How’ — the ‘Why’ can always come later. Here, the first two are managed with painful inadequacy and rest are completely neglected, giving me more ‘Huh?’ than anything else.

I did read the second chapter, just to see if it gets better. It doesn’t. Foris tosses even more elements into the mix, primarily an omnipresent narrator voice that the characters in the story can hear and communicate with — all of which collide with glorious nonsensicality to serve us one ginormous, fat NOTHING.

I really wanted to love this book. I was so ready to buy into this unique steampunk world with its kooky vocabulary and secretive lore. But the chaotic structure, meaningless exchanges between characters, and disjointed sequences damn near made my head implode.

I’ve deduced that it can be one of two things: either this book is fantastic and its brilliance just flew over my puny head; or Foris had this vague idea of a grand fantasy world, but possessed not the chops to effectively translate it into a compelling and comprehensible story. I’ll leave it at that.

Oh yeah, and this entire book is just the PROLOGUE, btw. WHAT.

Grievances aside, I, as a comms professional by day, would be remiss not to acknowledge the effort, time, and money required to pull something like this together, especially for an indie publisher. So, kudos to the team behind this book because they obviously put their whole Octubussy into it. Unfortunately, I cannot, in good faith, recommend this to anyone.

DNFed with moderate severity. Dented my wall. It’s a chonky one.

These Violent Delights by Micah Nemerever

made me want to be violent just to feel something.

This one caught my eye at the bookstore earlier this year because it promises a Hitchcockian thriller of charismatic intellectuals in dark suits embroiled in homoerotic trysts and retro dark academia intrigue. The Secret History meets Call Me By Your Name, they said.

I should’ve known.

The prologue: Charlie punches out from work and realises his car won’t start. It’s pouring. A black car comes by, and the passenger — a teenage boy in an argyle pullover and toffee-brown jodhpur boots, who looks like “a suburban choirboy in halfhearted revolt” (what does that even mean??) — asks him to get in. He does, and accepts a bowl of what they claim to be “chicken and rice”. Someone definitely missed Stranger 101 in kindergarten. Sure enough, he starts to get woozy, realises too late that they somehow know his name, and conks out.

The first chapter: We’re introduced to the better half of the offending duo, Paul and his family. They go for a party at their aunt Hazel’s house. Paul mooches around, all quiet and broody — obviously to establish him as the sensitive, soft-spoken, socially-inept main character destined to meet his rich, hedonistic, and cruel peer. You know, the one who will introduce him to a life of crime and Bad Deeds™ in the name of aEsThEtIcS or whatever.

Okay, this isn’t as terrible as I’m making it out to be. The writing is very pretty, if a little superficial; “pretty” in that it is padded with unnecessary adjectives, which pushes the needle of pretentious too far for my liking. But I suppose that’s expected with a book of this specific genre.

My biggest gripe is that despite the lavender prose, nothing really hooked me into the story. There is a blatant attempt by Nemerever to play up the discohesive dynamic of Paul’s family. Still, the muted chaos isn’t riveting enough to mitigate their bland personalities and the arid scenes.

This might be my The Secret History PTSD talking, though. These Violent Delights is definitely more tolerable than its inspo material, and I would’ve forayed into the second chapter had I the time. Troubled, self-loathing fictional sadbois are my guilty pleasure (as you know), and I wanted to know what happened to Charlie — but unfortunately not enough to suffer tired storytelling and anaemic side characters who feel like sketch outlines of the characters they should have been.

DNFed, very gently. Patted it on the head and tucked it in to sleep. May revive the next time I’m craving dark academia mediocrity.

Read my previous Rec: 3 Greek Mythology Novels Worth Your Time

Or check out previous issues!

• [Rant] How to Be a 'Nice Guy' in 3 Easy Steps — THE SORROWS OF YOUNG WERTHER

  [Rant] Store-bought Feminism — THEY NEVER LEARN

• [Essay] Death by Ugliness — THE HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE DAME and FRANKENSTEIN