I arrived home from the tri-cities Saturday night and my grandfather held up a book. The small, cheap kind you can get in line at the grocery store.
“This book is a 2, at most,” he proclaimed, throwing it down on the table. “And if crap like this can be published, that makes yours at least a 7.”
YES! Up to a 7 on the “how good of a book my grandpa thinks it is” scale!
I just have to give him a couple other shite novels and I can be up to an 8!