Compulsion - Clare London Fuck me. Nothing as frustrating as spotting glimpses of something hot and exciting in a mostly terrible mess of major fails.

This started out okay. Except for the not exactly subtle info dumping that’s going on, the first meeting between Max (who I would later start referring to as The Whiny Little Bitch), and the dark, tall and handsome semi-Spanish Seve (which I couldn’t help but read as ‘STeve’) seemed pretty promising. Their instalust in the night club Compulsion explodes into a dirty back alley quickie, after which they both go their own way without having exchanged more than a few words. After that a few more of those wordless encounters occur in a tiny office space, the back seat of a car, you know how it goes.. well, I don’t personally. Not really. But I guess it makes for smutty fun reading.

So here’s what I’m going to do, I thought. I’m not going to let the barely adequate writing or the lame ass plot and melodramatic dialogue insult my intelligence. Considering that summer has finally arrived in the Netherlands and it’s bloody hot here, I’m going to OPT OUT OF MY BRAIN and just enjoy this smutty ride.

And really, for a while Compulsion was a bit like your average Tour de Tumblr. You start innocently enough, searching for something like ‘cute puppies’. Then some clever bastard happens to have used that tag very creatively and you end up on a less innocent Tumblr page, but aren’t particularly eager to correct your mistake right away, you know? So I usually just kind of naughtily stick around. Still, after a bit of jumping from one NSFW Tumblr to another, all those pictures seem to blur into one mash up of limbs and holes and I get fed up with all the raunchiness. Instead, I start craving something that’s still sexy, but more substantial and wholesome. A well-written, well-plotted book for instance! But Compulsion just isn’t that book.

To the point now.

Except for the attraction between the MC's and the few sex scenes, that most reviewers considered to be hot, this book doesn’t offer much. The MC’s get bogged down in endless, repetitive quarrels about drama I not only couldn’t give a crap about, it didn’t make sense either.

Max a.k.a The Whiny Little Bitch has been plagued with feelings of guilt, ever since a friend of him got stabbed to death before a club in London and Max didn’t go to the police because he was involved in drug dealing for the club’s owner. Instead he flees to Brighton to live with his friends. Months later, his life still revolves around feeling sorry for himself and sulking about what happened back in London. After living as a hermit for months, he finally heads out for a night of clubbing at Compulsion, where he bumps into the larger than life Seve, the club’s manager.

*mild spoilers below*
After Max has let Seve plug all his holes, he discovers that his club and the one back in London are owned by the same family. Seve's family. After that, Mr. High Maintenance can’t stop bugging and whining before, during and after their casual fucks. He creates a soap opera about how wrong Seve’s family is, about how he knows little to nothing about the man himself (while Max is the one who runs off after every fuck) and about how Seve doesn’t trust him with information, about how he probably thinks Max is just one of those casual fucks (chances are you'd be upgraded to his regular fuck if you fucking knocked off the cry-baby act you Whiny Little Bitch, ugh!) and about how his friends gossip about what’s written in the newspapers about Seve’s love life.

Who the fuck does Max think he is anyway, to drag down a fuck buddy he's exchanged 3 words with into his pathetic life?

“I couldn’t believe the bitterness in the words spilling out of me. “Before you tell me to piss off. Because that’s all this is, isn’t it? A fuck. I know that, I’m not stupid. I know the rules. And believe me, I’m the first to enjoy it. But that doesn’t mean you get all of me.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Seve’s voice was low and angry. “What rules?”
“You know.” I wish I’d never started this.
(...)
He grabbed my arm and turned me to face him. “Is that your problem?”
“Let go of me.”
“I’m not the only one keeping to myself, am I?”
“What the fuck? Just let go, let it drop.” (...)
“I’m not jealous. I’ve got no stake in that.”
“So what the hell is the matter? Tell me!”
“There’s no point. That’s not what we’re about.”
“So what are we about?” Seve said. His voice had lowered again and his eyes had narrowed.
“I’m going, “ I said. “I’ll walk from here.”
“Don’t be ridiculous ---“
“Don’t tell me what to be or not!” I snapped. I turned and strode away.
He didn’t follow.

Push and pull..(x 314)

Worse, their simplistic, drawn out squabbling is carried out in Neanderthal talk ‘n growl (their IQ reminds me of Al’s in Muscling Through, with the difference that Al was supposed to not be the brightest bulb in the box, and funny because of it!) This melodramatic crap makes up for the bulk of Compulsion's 225 pages.

And then there’s of course a completely ludicrous, overwrought love declaration in the form of another major info dump in the middle of argument 314.

Possibly recommended for skimming to the sex scenes on a drunken summer night.