So, Drood was stupid. You can stop right here, because I feel a lot of words welling up in me and most of them are somehow echoes of this. Or you can go read Musingfromthesofa’s review at 259 pages in and rest assured that it never gets any better.
And I know the book is long (771 pages), and that it probably took him longer to write it than me to read it, but if I remember that this is the fourth or fifth time you’re telling us that you call your mistress’ daughter Harriet ‘Carrie’ at home (for no discernible reason, but you do, you definitely do. OH how often you do and then point out that you do), maybe his editor should have caught it. And the other eleventy times he repeated himself.