Meh. That pretty much sums up how I felt about this book. I am not even sure exactly why I picked it, but I did. I had hope, in the beginning, that I would find this witty throughout, but what started as playful conversations started to feel forced and false. Maybe it because this is British literature and the conversations were light and polite, so foreign to my own experience? The characters, a wife and husband with a happy enough marriage, never fully developed into anything. The husband starts an affair and the wife explores religion. She doesn't really find it or any truth, just pokes around for what seems more like a place to belong, not something to believe in. Not much else to mention, I am sad to say. There is not even any sort of climax to the plot. It just ends with things as they are- carry on.
This is a book I should have just quit. Normally I would have, but somehow I feel a certain obligation to this little blog and want to finish something and write about it. But I am giving that up. If I get a few chapters in and I feel bored and have no connection I am going to put the thing down and walk away. Life is too short, there are too many GREAT books to read to waste time on something that gives me nothing.
I am not going to review the other one I recently read "The Lady of the Lake," by Mavis Amundson, as it was more of a true crime leaflet than a book. I only read it because it was at the cabin of the lake we were staying at and the dead body had been found in that very lake. Ooooooo, spooky.
My next adventure is going to be some Victor Hugo. My best friend gave me a beautiful book featuring Hunchback and Les Mis, which I just unpacked, so it seems like a great choice. I need some ol' reliable quality literature right now. I am disenchanted.
