OK I’m in an emotional high much greater than any pregnant woman has ever experienced and god oh god. It’s a talent to make your characters so sentient that the curse of emotions befalls on the readers. All the readers who only read “feel good” books are my new best friends(I’m so sorry I used to judge you before for not challenging yourselves), and all you lot who seek out depressing books on purpose now scare me.
The cause of my sorrow today is [Prodigal Blues](https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/19144.Prodigal_Blues) by Gary A. Braunbeck. See, I’m a thriller/crime fan. Big bad criminals getting chased and put on their place by cops, now that’s a good time. Who doesn’t like justice? But who remembers the victims, if they even survived to have their accounts taken? This book had that. 4 absolutely precious children , stripped of their childhood, tortured beyond repair. This book was so wholesome at lengths, real found family vibe, and then so vile at times I didn’t even register what those words meant and kept reading on to get back at the wholesomeness.
I’m ashamed to admit in all my other crime novels I never cared what happened to them. I wanted the adrenaline rush, I wanted an evasive criminal who kept getting away and getting more kills to amp the stakes till the climax where they got their karmic justice. I’m disgusted. I also want humans to die out, but that’s not possible for the time being, so i’ll continue to read happy fiction books because at the end of the day my mental health wins
p.s – please dont read this book if you have/want kids. Do support any charities for kids you can please
by Peppa_Yumyum