Bad, vile and meaningless: Piece of shit Robin Hobb from Alan's clob

I'm reading the second book in that stupid, spiteful series of an assassin's life. It's a dishonest, annoying book that keeps on going forward to its inevitable crappy end, full of unreasonable, contrived people, and tenuous stupidity and generic lack of action.

You can tell I'm frustrated. This frustration is the purpose of the book. I know it perfectly well. It's the same thing as putting something important going on right before taking a commercial break: a reason to snatch you back and endure the commercials, lest you switch channels. This book is doing exactly the same thing, and I dislike its lack of skill, bad pun intended, for being what it is. It's just a stupid, overlong book, like a bad symphony lacking a note of relief, something to be put out of its misery.

I hate this whole thing, and I'm stuffed up to here with crap about stupid apprentices of assassins, and the meaningless politics of a stupid country. What that land needs is a good elite squadron of nazi soldiers ready to put a few boxes of ammo to good use. I would think killing everybody starting from the stupid king, and going down to the idiot stablemaster Burrich would bring me at least a momentary satisfication. Leave the cook alive, though. I've always had a soft spot about some solid basic good food.