Imagine, if you will, that you’re a writer.
A writer who has been contracted by SyFy to write a novelization of one of their questionable, original movies. You know, like Octoshark.
Only they don’t send you the script and you, having a sliver of taste, decide not to watch the movie. But you still need to write the damn book in order to get paid. What do you do?
Well, if it’s anything like this book you might do research on Wikipedia and ask your thirteen year-old, male cousin to tell you about the book. Because that’s how Sharcano reads, like it’s being told by a middle school-aged boy with ADD in the throws of hormonal chaos, one who throws in curse words simply because.