I can't say I disagree with the review. I have enjoyed Ringo's Posleen books. I have enjoyed his Fallen Earth books a great deal. I have read the first
three Paladin of Shadows books.
They are excellent military action books, with a competent command of tactics, hardware and capabilities. Full points all around.
They are also greasy. Wrap your body in bacon and run a marathon greasy. No John Ringo No does not even begin to cover how seriously fucked up these books are.
The protagonist is a fucker, in every sense - and I do mean every sense of the word. The only thing that keeps you from wanting to see him kicked in the groin
until his testicles are dangling out of his nostrils like gaily bobbing yo-yos is that he is surrounded by, and killing, worse people.
Ghost is the worst, a self-indulgent wank-fest of the first order, from killing Bin Laden, to bondage threesomes with co-eds (with permission of their
rope'n'leather happy mommas), to unlimited cash. It just keep rolling along like a rice-ball in a urinal, picking up every single diseased pube it runs
across.
The next two books are not quite so bad, and I will admit that I will pick up the fourth one that just arrived in paperback. They are I fear a guilty pleasure.
I like good military fiction; I like good erotica. These books meet me halfway.
The Mona Lisa analogy is not apt. If you left these books alone with the Mona Lisa you would return to find her tied up and being alternately penetrated and
pecker slapped by them, while crying out pleasurable in a Romance language.
Too crude? Compared to these books, it is just a glass of milk and a kiss on the cheek from a ball-gagged MILF.
three Paladin of Shadows books.
They are excellent military action books, with a competent command of tactics, hardware and capabilities. Full points all around.
They are also greasy. Wrap your body in bacon and run a marathon greasy. No John Ringo No does not even begin to cover how seriously fucked up these books are.
The protagonist is a fucker, in every sense - and I do mean every sense of the word. The only thing that keeps you from wanting to see him kicked in the groin
until his testicles are dangling out of his nostrils like gaily bobbing yo-yos is that he is surrounded by, and killing, worse people.
Ghost is the worst, a self-indulgent wank-fest of the first order, from killing Bin Laden, to bondage threesomes with co-eds (with permission of their
rope'n'leather happy mommas), to unlimited cash. It just keep rolling along like a rice-ball in a urinal, picking up every single diseased pube it runs
across.
The next two books are not quite so bad, and I will admit that I will pick up the fourth one that just arrived in paperback. They are I fear a guilty pleasure.
I like good military fiction; I like good erotica. These books meet me halfway.
The Mona Lisa analogy is not apt. If you left these books alone with the Mona Lisa you would return to find her tied up and being alternately penetrated and
pecker slapped by them, while crying out pleasurable in a Romance language.
Too crude? Compared to these books, it is just a glass of milk and a kiss on the cheek from a ball-gagged MILF.