Opinions should not be confused with criticisms

The book hit the ground with an unsatisfying flap. It was too thin to manage a thud, and too thick to be crumpled up or ripped apart in a timely fashion. Josh had thrown it anyway, hoping that perhaps if he threw it hard enough it would at least make a passable smack, but the pages had just spread a bit and slowed it down. So.

Flap.

Josh glowered in the general direction of the book from where he was lounging, wanting nothing more to do with it, but also unwilling to take the chance that if he left it where it had fallen, he would trip on it as he was leaving and crack his head open. That would just be like the unreadable sonuvabitch, too.

He was still lying on the couch as he tried to decide if it was worth it to move the book to the fireplace, or if he should just set the fire in the garbage can under the desk.