Dear John Irving:

Your last book "Until I Find You" is quite possibly one of the, if not THE, worst book I have ever read. Ever.
820 pages of garbage.
I am not connected with Hollywood in any way. Why in the holy hell would you subject me to the treatments of 5 films you clearly have cooking. Also horrible stories.
You hacked together all your books. Complete with the ear bit from HNH. What the hell is the matter with you???

I am now forced to go back and read the Hotel New Hampshire to redeem you as a favorite author.

But right now?
I hate you so bad.