Explaining the Reasons for the 1-Star (Out of 5 Stars) Rating I Gave a Book on Amazon

I was being generous.
I ordered the book by mistake while distracted when my cat walked over the keyboard of my laptop computer.
Actually, the cat isn’t even mine. My ex-girlfriend brought this feline to my place one day, left it here, and it has caused me nothing but trouble ever since. The cost of the book is just the latest addition to the financial burden imposed on me by keeping this formerly stray cat around.
For example, just last week, the cat tore down the drapes, overturned a lamp which started a small fire in the living room, ate the tuna in my sandwich and the anterior half of my goldfish, pounced on my neighbor’s poodle, and then chased my neighbor up the tall maple tree in front of his house. The firefighters had to be called to help my neighbor come down from the tree. But they were two hours late, since this was a low priority. Multiple lawsuits are pending.
The book arrived one day late.
The mailman left the package on the lawn in front of my house on a dreadful rainy day, and I had to go outside to get it.
In fact, since this cat arrived, the mailman wouldn’t come to my door anymore. So, now my mail is often wet, either due to the rain or because my neighbor’s nervous poodle peed on it.
I strained my back trying to pick up the book after I dropped it on my foot.
The cover had a disturbing number of dark finger marks, presumably from the sticky digits of the people who handled the book before it was mailed. I sent the fingerprints to the local police station, and it turns out some of them belong to wanted men. These guys are well known to the authorities for having put their dirty fingers on hundreds of books.
There is only a narrow open space left on my bookshelf, and this book doesn’t quite fit into it.
I flipped through it and noticed it had a lot of words, and some of them were long.
What I really needed was a book about how to stop cats from walking on computer keyboards, especially when I’m typing.
I had a lousy lunch at the diner—the soup was cold, my sandwich smelled funny, and the coffee tasted like the soup—and I was in a bad mood afterward.
I saw a documentary about all the zoonotic diseases people can get from cats.
It happened on Friday the 13th.
My shoes were too tight.
My ex-girlfriend took the cat litter box when she left, and she doesn’t even have a cat.
She also took the car keys and she doesn’t drive.
For some reason, I can’t find my wallet.
There were too many good reviews already.
The same publisher rejected my idea for a novel two years ago.
I can’t find the time to read it.
It doesn’t quite cut it as a doorstop.
My ex-girlfriend reported me to the authorities for keeping wildlife in my home. It turns out that I am sharing the house with an endangered wildcat.
I am not the author.
I don’t know the author.
My neighbor doesn’t know the author either.
My ex-girlfriend knows and likes the author.
My car is gone.
I have a feeling the author is driving my car now.