If it wasn't for the fact that I was reading this for a bookgroup it would have gone back to the library days ago but I decided to persevere and it was an interesting intellectual exercise.
But I didn't enjoy the experience. Maybe I'm shallow, maybe I'm jaded, but it just wasn't my kind of book. Watching the echoes of someone elses life and someone elses marriage fall asunder is just not my cup of tea. The cookie cutter women just jarred and regularly I had to go back a bit to check which person was involved in a situation and sometimes even though I was a little puzzled I didn't care. The casual racism also jarred but was somewhat understandable with the period. But the snobishness and value-judgement statements that littered the book annoyed me and jarred me out of the experience.
Not an experience I regret but not one that filled me with any enthuaism for the book or the author.
