Because this week I read Killing Monica by Candace Bushnell and Finders Keepers by Stephen King. The former could’ve used more scary parts, and the latter needed a lot more sex appeal. And it’s pretty clear to me that a mashup of these two authors would make for a pretty fabulous book. On their own? Two pretty mediocre reading experiences.

In Killing Monica, a bestselling author decides the only way to self-actualize is to kill off her most famous creation. Or at least that’s the nominal premise. Mostly Pandy (such a bad name) relives her glory days with frenemy SondraBeth Schnowzer (another bad name), who plays Monica in the movies, and frets about the sister she lost while not talking about it. There’s very little by way of plot here, just a lot of binge drinking and bitching about success.

Finders Keepers brings back some characters from Mr. Mercedes, which was so forgettable that even the backstory King included on these recurring characters didn’t remind me why I was supposed to be happy to see them again. A boy finds a trunk filled with money and manuscripts and has to decide what to do about it. Meanwhile, the crook who put them there is out of the clink and on the hunt for his treasure trove. Sparks fly, shit happens, book ends. I can’t even remember if anyone important dies. I wasn’t even nervous, let alone scared.

I also revisited Twisted by Laurie Halse Anderson, which really holds up as a complex look at a very troubled young man. My previous review (yes, you have to read it) still stands except for a few crucial elements.

• I applaud her insight into how teens use computers. Now, 8 years later, the technology is so far out of date that I’m laughing at myself for my lack of future-casting abilities.
• Laurie Halse Anderson no longer has a LiveJournal. I miss the mid-oughts, don’t you?
• I don’t think I knew who Adam Brody was then and I don’t know who he is now and I never saw that movie. But I still believe in Kristen Stewart, Bella notwithstanding.