This book - which I hesitate to quite dub a novel - is an extreme example of a couple rather irritating features of modern fiction: 1.) A lovely, intriguing concept, bolstered by glowing puffs by reviewers followed by, not poor execution, but no execution. Without giving anything particular away from what is supposed and touted to be a sort of mystery novel, there is nothing mysterious revealed here at all. Further, there is absolutely no suspense or mystery at all in Blackmoor itself, the book or the town. Indeed, the book might be accurately described as a scraping away, from the first chapter to the last, of whatever sense of mystery or suspense the reader feels. The novella-length book is far too short for the characters to develop any psychological depth whatsoever. So, Beth, Vincent and George all leave the reader not with a feeling of lingering mystery, but simple emptiness. There never was anything to them after all. 2.) Creative writing class prose which, indeed, offers ever so many pretty sentences, but the sentences don't connect to anything more substantial than themselves, or perhaps a hastily penned atmosphere, which feels as shallow as the characters herein. In other words, what this book lacks is depth of any sort.
Two stars for the pretty, in spots, prose. But this is a book that is as soon forgotten as it is closed.
- Paperback: 288 pages
- Publisher: Simon & Schuster UK (29 April 2009)
- Language: English
- ISBN-10: 1847391265
- ISBN-13: 978-1847391261
- Product Dimensions: 13 x 0.1 x 19.8 cm
- Boxed-product Weight: 181 g
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