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I found this book to be very much in line with what we are calling women's fiction. The characters are all searching in their own way for connection-with each other, with their parents, with the various men in their lives. What makes this book different than the others is the tie in with Shakespeare. I don't know if it actually is more literary, or just seems that way because of the frequent mentions of the Bard, but it feels like there is a little more meat in this story than in some women's fiction.
But here's my problem-not only do the sisters not really like each other, but I found myself not really liking them that much. They were all flawed, which I realize was the point. They were all failures, which I realize was the point. But I kept finding myself wanting to tell them, "Grow up and talk to each other!" or "Get over yourselves and move on with your life!" or "Stop whining-move to England already!" Despite not really liking them much, I did find myself caring what happened to them. And Brown did a good job of not falling into the easy traps. None of them have the perfect resolution to their issues, though all of them found some happiness and satisfaction. Overall, this is a perfectly pleasant read, but without any real profundity.
Hear, hear! This was a book that I really *wanted* to like (Shakespeare! sisters! scholars!) and ended up finishing because I couldn't believe it wouldn't get better. I did a brief review of it over on my blog. Did the collective point of view bother you or not? I found myself rarely able to get past it.
ReplyDeleteIt did...it seemed like a literary affectation, rather than anything that served a real purpose in the plot. And for the first few chapters of the book I kept waiting to find out there was a brother, or a secret bastard sister or something...
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