This month, our "host" is Andrea. Here are her offerings:
Alias Grace, by Margaret Atwood; The Kitchen House, by Kathleen Grisson; The Secret Life of Cee Cee Wilkes, by Diane Chamberlain; Every Last One, by Anna Quindlen; and Unbroken, by Laura Hillenbrand.
Email your vote to me at kzmclain@comcast.net. Voting ends May 2.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Annie Freeman
In all honesty, I can’t tell you that I never abandon a book. In fact, I abandon books all the time. When it comes to reading, my motto has always been Life is too short to read a bad book. Furthermore, there are lots and lots and lots of really good books to read, and so little time to read them.
I will tell you, however, that I generally give books more time than I gave this one. What’s more, I rarely have to write a book review about a book that I have so unsentimentally tossed aside. But here goes.
With apologies to any of you who enjoyed this book (and that’s why there are so many authors and so many kinds of books), I thought this was one of the worst books I have ever read (or attempted to read). I have never read anything by this author, so I’m reluctant to use such a broad sweep in dismissing her, but I don’t think I will ever attempt another book by Kris Radish.
Her characters, whom I was undoubtedly supposed to like and commiserate with, were pretentious and overbearing. In the short time I spent with this book, I came to heartily dislike them all – and Annie Freeman most of all.
The dialog was unrealistic. Nobody talks that way. The narration was so over-the-top. I just felt that I could never be friends with any of the characters, and most assuredly not with the author. Isn’t that so unfair of me?
The chapters were mostly blessedly short. But even a few pages devoted to a bra was simply too much to bear. It’s a BRA for God’s sake. The bra could be made out of mink lined with silk and I wouldn’t be that distraught over its destruction. And were I to ever interact with a UPS delivery person in that way, I would most assuredly be incarcerated.
I am more than willing to allow for literary license. If we were to require that all books be totally like real life, none of us would likely read at all. But still, these women were thrown together in these unlikely circumstances, and simply loved each other immediately. Really? And not only that, but everyone around them loved them as well. REEEEEAAALLLY?
I wanted to like this book. I really love the idea of friendship books. Not to bring up a sore subject, but that is one of the things I like most about Fannie Flagg (Remember? Our last author? The one you all hated?) I love the friendships among her women characters. But I just didn’t like any of these women, and didn’t want to be any of their friends. I didn’t know how they could stand each other!
Please, please, please, if you disagree with me, tell me why. I really hope that I misunderstood something about this book.
I will tell you, however, that I generally give books more time than I gave this one. What’s more, I rarely have to write a book review about a book that I have so unsentimentally tossed aside. But here goes.
With apologies to any of you who enjoyed this book (and that’s why there are so many authors and so many kinds of books), I thought this was one of the worst books I have ever read (or attempted to read). I have never read anything by this author, so I’m reluctant to use such a broad sweep in dismissing her, but I don’t think I will ever attempt another book by Kris Radish.
Her characters, whom I was undoubtedly supposed to like and commiserate with, were pretentious and overbearing. In the short time I spent with this book, I came to heartily dislike them all – and Annie Freeman most of all.
The dialog was unrealistic. Nobody talks that way. The narration was so over-the-top. I just felt that I could never be friends with any of the characters, and most assuredly not with the author. Isn’t that so unfair of me?
The chapters were mostly blessedly short. But even a few pages devoted to a bra was simply too much to bear. It’s a BRA for God’s sake. The bra could be made out of mink lined with silk and I wouldn’t be that distraught over its destruction. And were I to ever interact with a UPS delivery person in that way, I would most assuredly be incarcerated.
I am more than willing to allow for literary license. If we were to require that all books be totally like real life, none of us would likely read at all. But still, these women were thrown together in these unlikely circumstances, and simply loved each other immediately. Really? And not only that, but everyone around them loved them as well. REEEEEAAALLLY?
I wanted to like this book. I really love the idea of friendship books. Not to bring up a sore subject, but that is one of the things I like most about Fannie Flagg (Remember? Our last author? The one you all hated?) I love the friendships among her women characters. But I just didn’t like any of these women, and didn’t want to be any of their friends. I didn’t know how they could stand each other!
Please, please, please, if you disagree with me, tell me why. I really hope that I misunderstood something about this book.
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