Look at me, all done reading a book! And not knowing how to explain why it’s been so long since the last time I did that.
I remember reading Kate Morton’s other books…
- The House at Riverton
- The Secret Keeper
- The Forgotten Garden
- The Distant Hours
…so I didn’t think it would be a stretch to like The Lake House. And I did like it. I just didn’t love it. There was way too much messing about getting to the point. And far too many coincidences and characters and back stories and sub plots and descriptions and hopping around in time. Just too many words. I guess that’s why I could never write an entire novel, lacking the patience to expand everything to death without giving the ending away in the first chapter.
A child disappears and it takes seventy years to solve the mystery of what happened to him. People with secrets! You just want to give them a shake. How’s that for a book review?
If the reading of this book hadn’t started well before Christmas and proceeded in fits and starts up until this afternoon I suppose I might have found it shorter. Mostly I read in bed when I was already tired and rarely came across anything riveting enough to keep me awake. Not even half way through I found myself no longer caring what really happened or why, but FINALLY the end arrived and it all came together in the neatest little package ever, tied with a bow. I don’t know why that felt trite and disappointing, but it did. Just too darned neat and tidy and resolved.
Anyway, it’s a story and it’s been told. If you like Kate Morton you will enjoy this. But I don’t think you will be blown away.
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