“We don’t need lists of rights and wrongs, tables of dos and don’ts; we need books, time, and silence. Thou shalt not is soon forgotten, but Once upon a time lasts forever.”
— Philip Pullman
I’d really like to give this book a glowing review because so many people profess to have read it and loved it, calling it witty, satirical, poignant, charming, and delightful fun. But I can’t, because it was none of those things to me. It took me a month to slog through three hundred pages. I couldn’t drum up any emotion for the main character who for some reason or other for me did not ring true. I guess I really don’t care what New York was like in the 1930’s and the story never seemed to be going anywhere. Random people kept popping in and out of her life or disappearing altogether never to be heard from again. It was like reading someones boring journal entries and finally getting to the end and thinking, really? That’s it?
I am definitely in the minority here, and was probably just in a bad mood for a month, so don’t let this deter you from reading other reviews and the book itself. It would be a very colorless reading world if we weren’t all inspired by different things.