Review: Krap: Krappy of Krap: The Krap of Krap and Krapia by Kendall and Kylie Jenner
Release date: The Apocalypse
Series: I don't even want to answer this
Source: Hell's minions
Kendall and Kylie Jenner, stars on the hit reality show Keeping Up with the Kardashians, present their debut novel—a thrilling dystopian story about two super-powered girls who embark on a journey together.
Two cities… Two girls… A shared destiny…
In a world of the far future, the great city of Indra has two faces: a beautiful paradise floating high in the sky, and a nightmare world of poverty carved into tunnels beneath the surface of the earth.
Kendall and Kylie Jenner, the youngest sisters in the Kardashian dynasty, have written a gripping tale of air, fire, and a bond of blood
Rebels: City of Indra: The Story of Lex and Livia: Written by Kendall and Kylie: But Not Really: But Not At All
(Kendall and Kylie Jenner, dressed in artfully tattered jeans, artfully tattered t-shirts, and artfully tattered souls, lounge in their third bedroom. Kylie thumbs though a magazine, trying to find pictures of herself. Kendall lowers her Prada sunglasses and sighs a sigh of deepest existential ennui.)
Kendall: I'm, like, soooooo bored.
Kylie: OMK, like, me too.
Kendall: We should, like, do something. You know? Like with our lives.
Kylie: (points at a picture on the page) Look, me! Wait, that's you. Or is it Kourtney?
Kendall: I'm being super serious, Kylie.
Kylie: Wanna go to Kankun?
Kendall: We went to Kankun last week, duh. Besides, Kankun is soooo lower klass these days. And I want to do something meaningful. Like... life change-worthy. Like...that changes lives.
Kylie: Hey, it's me! Oh wait, no. That's J. Law. Klose enough.
Kendall: OHMYKANYE THAT'S IT.
Kendall: Books! Books are so fetch nowadays.
Kylie: That J. Law is so hot right now.
Kendall: SO LET'S WRITE ONE.
Kylie: Write, like...with words?
Kendall: EW. NO. GROSS. WITH MONEY, OF KOURSE.
Kylie: Oh, thank GOD.
Kendall: But, like, we have to make sure it's just like all the things people already like. Like there has to be a... a... a what do you kall it? Government! Yeah! And it's bad. But like there's this girl. NO! TWO GIRLS! JUST LIKE US!
Kylie: But less hot.
Kendall: Wayyyyy less hot.
Kylie: But we have to make sure we're, like, super serious about this, and in no way at all will this book be any fun at all at all.
Kendall: RIGHT. Because then mean old poopie heads who are way less hot than we are will make fun of us on the internet. So, like, everything has to be really komplicated but like futuristic because that is soooooo hot right now.
Kylie: Shailene WISHES she could star in our book.
Kylie: And she is SO not invited to the launch party.
I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I'm sure Kendall and Kylie are perfectly lovely and well-behaved teenage millionaires, blah di blah di blah, BUT THIS BOOK BROKE MY BRAIN. I have a very high threshold for krap (exhibits A, B, C, D, E, and all the way to Z). I am even that girl that takes some sort of strange, vicious pleasure in reading and watching terrible things. I have legitimately terrible taste in movies sometimes, and I am a masochist. So when an ARC of Kendall and Kylie Jenner's ghostwritten YA dystopian debut fell into my hands, I kackled with glee. No way was I going to pass this up. This was bound to be Modelland-levels of lunacy and fun.
WRONG. SO WRONG. ALL THE WRONG.
I have a migraine from this book. This dense, flat, empy, serious, dismal "book". I feel so sad for the poor writer forced to kobble together the shitstorm of dystopian tropes (dystropians?) Kendall and Kylie, the lesser Kardashian life forms, flung at her. I feel sorry for Kendall and Kylie, being shilled out for money all the freaking time. I feel sorry for my eyeballs, for being subjected to the rotten fruit of their not-so-kreative labor.
At least I had Eddy and Patsy in my head the whole time.
Saffy: Who are all these people?
Eddy: I don't know! They're just no names, nobodies, sweetheart.
They just sort of spread--
Patsy: Like herpes. Each one with it's own reality show. They're multiplying like head lice.
Eddie: Oh, and look at this fat one at the end. Very soon, she will split like an amoeba and become two Kardashians.
Patsy: That looks like a boob. In fact it's just another Kardashian.
Kruel? Probably. But this book. This Kanye-forsaken book. It's about a rich girl who lives in a city in the sky (?) and a poor girl who lives in an orphanage where they routinely feed people to underground mutants (?!). The rich girl does not want to attend her Emergence Ball, which has nothing to do with an Emergency Kanye Dance Party, sadly, but does make me want to kill myself, because every single Term of Worldbuilding Significance is Kapitalized. We are gifted with such glorious kharacter names as Etiquette Tutor, Andru, and my personal favorite, Waslo Souture.
No, seriously, every single element of every single sci-fi book you've ever read is here. It's absolutely horrifying to keep straight. It's almost like a game, really, seeing how many things can be shoved in here until the poor book just gives up and sags to the floor and dies.
This book wasn't fun. Not even in a, "Oh em gee, Kendall and Kylie are so hilariously terrible at this words-putting-into-sentence-doing, and it's hilarious!" way. It was just sheer, dense misery. It was like chewing through a hunk of wood. The first fifteen damn pages are this Livia girl galloping on a horse THINKING ABOUT THE WORLD and infodumping to us, and oh, what a mess of a world it is. I'll do you a favor and won't try to explain it here, because honestly. And then the next twenty pages are Lex thinking about her entire personal history and infodumping even more nonsense on us, and it's all so boring. The tears. The tears, you guys. And how horrifically derivative it all is! It steals worldbuiling elements from The Matrix and Kastle in the Sky and The Archived and, well, basically everything with words in it.
(Seriously, this poor ghostwriter. I hope you were fully kompensated.) (But then again, you were responsible for the atrocious sentences to follow, and my eyeballs were forced to read those sentences, so maybe not)
Still think I'm being too harsh? Well, decide for yourself. All kuotes come from an advance, uncorrected proof:
His hope was foolish. He could show them only through action that testing his might was immensely foolish.
I raise my eyebrows, noting her abilities in Conversational Intercourse are limited as well.
But doesn't she see the respect with which I hold my zinger? With every slash it barks.
My mouth is impossibly bitter, so I spit again, and with it comes rushing too much anger.
I'm the only one who remembers them. And yet, I have no memories of them.
Most refer to [my horse] Veda as white, but they're mistaken. Veda is ivory. And that is altogether different.
Well that's a horse of a different color!
The ones that lurk beneath the earth, that are cloaked in shadows and hidden within the eaves of the cavernous mantle.
"Once we found each other, I always looked out for her down here, and now she is gone, gone forever."
Twice a year the mutations take orphans, gifted to continue our sanctuary here in the bowels of the earth. At the point where the City of Indra doesn't care what goes on--we are that far beneath. There are greater worries.
Behold Indra: city of impossible architecture, her beauty timeless, her secrets dark. Whose mind dreamed her to life?