oh maggie.
i can understand why this book sells. the cliff-hanger ending.
however, i firmly believe that this book fits the criteria for the 'fine garbage' that my neighborhood trash dudes proudly collect and carry away.
but even the ending is arguably trashy. i'll just have to get over the embarrassing fact that it actually drew me in a tad - the way days of our lives, another world, and santa barbara used to. the great trifecta of the operatic soaps of old.
now, let's get down to the grit:
1) cut the length to a third. this could've been a short story. srsly.
2) rearrange the narratives for goodness's sake! i was so underwhelmed by the middle 80% of this book, i didn't even bother trying to determine in how many 'persons' it was written. a much better approach would've been to spend alternating chapters in these various voices, if the writer really wanted to play up the dementia praecox symbolism.
3) the chunk of the story dedicated to the family's time in india was a complete disappointment. i've read many a tale where that country was so successfully romanticized. this leads to my final criticism (cuz i'm getting a headache).
4) one of the very first things i noticed was the irritating blandness of the writer's style. i gritted my teeth and yelped aloud, every time i encountered a pathetic attempt at onomatopoeia. puh-lease. if i never read 'mumble-mumble' or some such nonsense ever again, it would certainly be too soon.
no wonder my propensity for reading did its own vanishing act for so many weeks. well, on to a better adventure, i hope. next up, the devil in the white city.
