I remember my high-school flirtations with Christianity quite well. Those days were amongst the most interesting in the downward spiral that is my own personal time line. I attended church on Sundays because my friends were usually there, the free food filled my stomach sufficiently, and the straight-edge girls looked totally fuckable in their church threads.

I didn’t quite take to the religion aspect like my buddies did. When you filter through my smokescreen of rationales for going to church, you’ll soon discover that I was really just there for the beer and the bitches.

After attending for awhile, my friends suggested that I get baptized. “No way,” I replied with unmasked horror, “I hate doctors, and I like my dick just the way it is”. They then laughed and explained that baptism was a simple procedure that, when completed, denoted that I had accepted Christ into my life as my savior. So I was like, what the hell. Christ sounds like a decent guy.

So right there, in front of the entire church going crowd, they ripped my ass from my seat and thrust me before everyone’s prying eyes. I was confused. The preacher said a few words, then put his hand on my chest. Not expecting to be personally violated like that, I slapped his face. The crowd gasped and the preacher was visibly taken aback by my retort. He went to do it again, and despite my urge to kick him in the sac, I quickly realized that this was all part of the whole ‘baptism’ thing. So I let the pervert touch me. He probably nutted his drawers after having groped my post-adolescent body of female attracting steel, but that’s beside the point.

Then, for no good reason whatsoever, he dunked me in a small pool of water. I immediately propelled myself out and punched the bitch in the face. It was then, sopping wet with the waters of humiliation, that I decided that church was no longer worthy of my attendance. My friends, though sad to see me go, gave me a parting gift for being such a good sport. It was a book, entitled “The Holy Bible”. I promised I’d read it. I’m always down for a compelling story. Besides, everybody and their mother had a copy of it. I figured it to be a timeless classic the likes of Moby Dick and Anna Karenina.

If ever there were an organization that gave out a prize for “Mostest Wrongest Assumption”, then I surely would have swept the competition in that moment.

First things first… who wrote this shit? There’s no byline anywhere to be found. I would at least like a name. An identifiable target for my animosity. I can only surmise that the author was so ashamed with what he (or she) had written that they refused to scrawl their name on it. I find this to be an act of cowardice on the author’s part… a laughable evasion of literary responsibility.

From the first page, I was instantly scratching my head. Most fantasy authors develop their world at an entertaining pace, using technique and fascinating material to reel you in. Not this one. The author immediately thrusts you into a confusing world of crap… and this crap is accentuated all throughout the book with a horribly written and asstastic vernacular. I think the author was aiming for some sort of genuine ‘archaic’ feel, but he overacted the narrative with such zeal that comprehending this clusterfuck of medieval syntax is rendered virtually impossible.

Let it be known: I think this book could have been a great story, had only the author been more fresh and able with his or her storytelling approach. This book has virtually none of the mechanisms that make a story great. Instead, it invents new ways of making a story suck ass through a straw. Plus, there’s only one god to rule the world depicted in The Holy Bible. Most successful fantasy novels employ at least a few deities, each representing a different alignment and symbol. Usually, you get the good god, who wants people to struggle the good fight and sacrifice all for some greater cause. You also get the bad god, who just wants to fuck stuff up something fierce. In The Holy Bible, there is only one god. And he’s a hardcore stickler. He’s not even that benevolent. He demands that everyone obey his orders without question for virtually nothing in return. He even goes so far as to eradicate people… simply for denying his existence. I’m just glad our ‘really real’ world is nothing like the world of suffering portrayed in this novel.

I was incredibly surprised to see that Christ, the very same guy I had accepted as my savior while attending church, was one of the main characters of this story. That’s just messed up. The author must have been hard up for ideas and starting ripping off the idols of the actual past. After discovering Christ was in this book, I half-expected to run into Abraham Lincoln and Hong Kong Fooey. Thankfully, he only stole the name from one historic figure.

Which brings me back to the author. I attribute most of this book’s shortcomings to the ineptitude of the person who wrote it. If this story had been an Anne Rice or Jeff Foxworthy project, it surely would have been a legend amongst all bookkind. Instead, it clocks in as quite possibly the most boring and insulting work of fiction ever penned. The Holy Bible is a testament to the power of the untrained author. It shows that even those with a mediocre grasp of storytelling can indeed strike gold with enough persistence and luck.

I’d offer up a plot analysis, if only this book had some discernable plot. The introduction is rushed, the body of the text is totally discombobulated, and there’s no climax to be found. The Holy Bible is a raw deal, any way you look at it.

To be fair, I didn’t read the whole thing. In fact, I didn’t read much of it. I was completely turned off by the uncreative chapter titles (John, Luke, etc.) and the craptacular style emanating from every written paragraph. If books were anything like food, then the Holy Bible would be the finest turdburger ever grilled by mankind.

I don’t know about you, but product-reviewing analogies just tickle me frickin’ pink, so here’s another one: If books were like perfume, then this one would be “Eu de Rectum”.

Long story short: The Holy Bible is a blatant shit stain on the lawn of legitimacy. I’ve yet to discover why it has been so universally accepted by Americans as the be-all, end-all of required reading. Take my advice: If you’re looking for a thrill ride of interest piquing fantasy, you’ll find more fascinating gems tucked between the covers of a Merriam Webster dictionary.

Final Verdict: 100% Pure Ass.