The Tale Of Dr William Livingsworth – A Review

It's not often that a book like The Tale Of Dr William Livingsworth comes along. A book so indescribably bad that you'd think the publishers were suffering from a mental illness – what were they thinking? I can't even begin to convey how terrible this novel is. But I'll at least try.

The plot, if you can call it that, concerns a detective who, inevitably, has to solve a case of some description. Sound familiar? But even as a stock-standard airport crime fiction novel, it fails. The plot is convoluted to the point where you feel even the author doesn't know what's going on. Yes, Thomas Formosa-Doyle fails to grasp even the simplest of narrative conventions. So what's left? The characters? Oh God no. The only way I could tell one from another was by their name and even then I was confused. They really are sub-one-dimensional. So the whole thing rests on the shoulders of humor. Which, unfortunately, is the worst element in the entire novel.

His idea of comedy is to interrupt the narrative with crudely worded knock-knock jokes and pale "why did the chicken cross the road?" variations. An example.
"Dr Livingsworth loomed over the corpse. "Knock knock," he breathed menacingly; to which the corpse failed to respond. Undeterred, William continued. "Who's there?" he said in mock falsetto. Another pause. "Me!" he shouted. "Me who?" "Me-thane!" The corpse laughed – for he was only human (if not anymore)."
And so on.

The language is chillingly incompetent too:
"The day was hot, the sky was bright. William the doctor was bright, but only because he wasn't stupid. And he wasn't stupid only because he was bright – or so I'm told. The trees were green, the doctor, oddly enough, wasn't – don't ask me why, please. Remember the doctor? You should; I've just spent three sentences explaining his mental ability – and, in the last, his colour. That, or is, what some might call (on the phone!) a story (not the building kind!) of mine (not a gold mine!) that I have written (writeleven!)."

But unquestionably the worst part of the whole book is the sub-plot involving a junior surgeon. The story only exists to give Thomas free reign to deliver horrendously offensive homophobic jokes and unsubtle right-wing rants. Overall, I'd rather die then read it again. If that means killing myself instead of reading it again, then so be it.