Paula Bomer’s novel The Stalker is a poorly written book. The narrative voice is dull. It observes narrowly, always telling when showing would suffice. Its descriptions are crude, such as when it renders a woman’s sagging breasts as “extra butt cheeks.” The dialogue is flat, exchanged between characters who are more of a collection of debilitating traits, traumas, and neuroses than containers of multitudes, let alone personalities. By the standards of literary fiction, The Stalker may be the worst-written book of the year.