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katiebabs

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Katiebabs is a self-proclaimed present day bluestocking with her head always in a book. She runs her own book blog called Babbling about Books and More!

Review: Mr. Crotchety

— feeling bad egg
Mr. Crotchety - Rich Amooi

Mr. Crotchety by Rich Amooi has an interesting premise based on the blurb, but I DNFed half way through. The concept drew me in about a fifty something widower still mourning the death of his beloved wife of thirty years. Roger owns a shoe store in town, and has become surly, brooding and plain old crotchety. He snaps at everyone, with the exception of his nephew who stays with him as he writes his thesis for grad school.

 

When Roger finds out some big celebrity is moving next door to him, that’s when he decides to sell his house. This is all based on gossip that the big celebrity is too loud and into partying. Sally enters the picture then. She’s a ball of sunshine, a real estate agent full of pep and smiles. Roger can’t stand her. But he hires her to sell his house, and that’s when things begin to change between them.

 

This change for these two should have been cute, but it was too over the top, annoying. Roger has a personality transplant too quickly. He acts anti-social but then says the opposite. He has this great house, but doesn’t want anyone over, and yet he has a tree swing in his front yard for the neighborhood kids. He gripes and snipes, in I guess, what should be a cute way, but it’s not. He acts much older then he is, which becomes uncomfortable reading when he flirts and hits on Sally, who is much younger than him. They end up making out and kissing at every house they visit, which is for comic relief, but it’s off putting. Sally treats Roger more like a grandfather figure than a man she’s attracted to. Their chemistry is just not there, mainly because Roger is too much of an old coot, and Sally too much of a college co-ed even though she is shown as an established career minded woman.

 

Roger and Sally just don’t mesh well together. Their romance is not believable. The wackiness factor grew old, so much so that I stopped halfway through.