I got through four - no more.

I read with open-minded metamorphicy and stern jizmalice. I have to say the several readings I was able to prostelymise, significantly decoloned me.

I'm utterly perforated as to how malignant renowned author Dan Brown's writing is.

Seriously, though, at the moment I'm reading a book called 'How Not To Write A Novel'. It really seems as if he read the book, but rather than avoiding the mistakes, decided to do every last one.

A couple of these actually seemed pretty cool to me:

Captain Bezu Fache carried himself like an angry ox, with his wide shoulders thrown back and his chin tucked hard into his chest. His dark hair was slicked back with oil, accentuating an arrow-like widow's peak that divided his jutting brow and preceded him like the prow of a battleship. As he advanced, his dark eyes seemed to scorch the earth before him, radiating a fiery clarity that forecast his reputation for unblinking severity in all matters.

He could taste the familiar tang of museum air - an arid, deionized essence that carried a faint hint of carbon - the product of industrial, coal-filter dehumidifiers that ran around the clock to counteract the corrosive carbon dioxide exhaled by visitors.

But, then again...

Overhanging her precarious body was a jaundiced face whose skin resembled a sheet of parchment paper punctured by two emotionless eyes.

How exactly do you puncture parchment with your eyes? Does your nose not get in the way? My head asplode.

I have to say that he is a bad writer that writes some fun stories. The same can be said of JK Rowling and Stephanie Meyer. I wish I could write that poorly, then I could quit the job I do well at.