Oliviate

You expect a little depression when you set out to read a book about Class A baseball, but this author took things to an absurd and self-flagellating degree that was entirely unpleasant to read. It's like someone gave Eeyore an MFA in Creative Writing and then sent him to a Midwestern ballfield. The author's own sense of self-loathing was so obtrusive that it felt as though I couldn't really see the events and people he was trying to describe.