I wanted to like this. I really did. But it was so cynical and self-indulgent, I just couldn't do it. Grossman could teach Rowling a thing or two about telling, not showing. I tried to hard to care about the characters, or the plot developments, or any part of the world and was thwarted at every turn. Even the climax made me think, "Well fucking duh." I appreciate the theme Grossman was going for, but it feels like he got drunk and whiffed it. So maybe it's a metanarrative that way.

The dialogue will stick with me, for sure. "He was either going to hit you or start a blog...." "He thinks he's really going to bone an elf." And of course I'll read the sequel. Sonofabitch.