Book: Golden Handcuffs

This morning I read a new book in manuscript (electronic) by a friend of mine. This is his 16th or 17th book, though I'm afraid he's a terrible writer. Very melodramatic, jerky pacing, everything is infused with his weird stunted gay worldview (where every man desires every other man). He hasn't asked me to proof his last several books because I was a little too honest with the ones before that -- and I hurt his feelings. This one is the true story of a mutual friend of ours who went through a crisis, drug induced, and ended up killing himself. Because I knew the subject he wanted my input, and I was happy to give it.

I held back on the style criticisms, and the worldview criticisms, and limited myself to pointing out a few minor continuity errors (like describing writing on a computer in 1983). Actually, it's one of his best books because it sticks mostly to the facts which are shocking enough to make a dramatic story.

Is it kindness to overlook a friend's limitations? I thought my honest opinion was wanted earlier, but I soon found out that either he disagreed with my opinion (entirely possible) or decided to disregard it (equally possible). Either way neither of us benefited from brutal honesty so this time I went for brutal silence.

But I feel dirty.