I downloaded this book (somewhat skeptically) because Kindle Unlimited recommended it to me, and I subsequently have grave concerns for the accuracy of their algorithm. Rarely have I read a book that displays such poor attention to detail. I don’t know whether to blame the author’s complete lack of imagination when it comes to adverbs, or the editors (were there any?) for not noticing that the characters say something “softly” every two paragraphs. Nobody speaks above a fucking whisper. They all have laryngitis.
There were about four pages where the author experimented with omitting all necessary commas, and another several pages where the missing commas congregated en masse. I read those sentences in my head like someone gasping for breath every two words. Maybe that’s why they speak so softly; they have collective emphysema.
I shut the book for good upon reading the following: “‘Yes,’ Dan sad softly, ‘thank goodness indeed.’” I am sad, and not remotely softly, that I wasted my time on such drivel. This story has a 4.21 out of 5 star score on Goodreads, which leaves me convinced that the 20,927 ratings are from bots paid for by the publisher. There was obviously a significant amount of money left in the budget after skimping on competent proof readers and copy editors.
I have deduced, without finishing this book, exactly what the twist will be. Instead of leaving tantalizing breadcrumbs, the author pelts the reader with hefty, stale loaves of clumsy clues. Spoiler alert: writer Dan is very clearly Elizabeth’s grown-up, “stillborn” son; taken away from her at birth because his swarthy skin would out him as the spawn of her foreign carny fling instead of the progeny of her gay, white, alcoholic husband. She was not permitted to see the child after birthing him, was told he was dead, and visits his grave all these years later to place flowers, which I’d imagine she does quite softly. Dan has come to Ballycove to pen his novel, but is really looking for evidence of his biological mother. He and Elizabeth don’t yet know of their connection, but I do, because I have critical thinking skills and an IQ higher than 6.
I genuinely wonder if a hapless and now presumably unemployed intern accidentally sent the first draft to print. Is there a final copy languishing on some executive’s desk where the characters speak at a normal volume instead of role playing like they’re at the library? Could there be a revised version where the twist wasn’t telegraphed so obviously during the exposition? Maybe a fully-edited manuscript exists somewhere, resplendent with commas in all the right places, never to be satisfyingly wrapped in a cover.
The story itself has a sort of bland charm that could have been somewhat appealing, I suppose, had anyone bothered to take it beyond its early conception. I thought it might be a palate cleanser after a brilliant yet harrowing read, but it just left a bad taste in my mouth. It must be said, softly, that editing has gone to the dogs.