I just can’t. I had a bad feeling when the first paragraph was comprised of the protagonist counting the strokes of her hairbrush before her dastardly husband beat her. Sebastian, “Bas,” is a real sonofabitch—a greedy, self-serving, abusive husband and father. His wife, Aleida, has been planning to escape him and their home in the Netherlands with three-year-old Theo, that “monstrosity” she calls a son—part of Bas’s dialogue. Theo was born with no fingers on his right hand.) A German invasion is imminent and Aleida has made careful plans to ditch Bas, flee with Theo, and make exodus to London, where she has supportive family. Unfortunately, Bas jumps the gun and has his own plans to vacate their homeland with his family, which would be good, if not for the fact Aleida wants to separate herself and Theo from him. He gives her fifteen minutes to pack and they join the long, desperate swarm of refugees leaving by any means they can. Bas and his big, fancy motorcar could accommodate at least a few of the less advantaged, but he’s not interested. In fact, he’s not concerned if he runs over a few when hostile German forces arrive by air and Bas puts the pedal to the metal. I think Aleida fell asleep, but I can’t be 100% sure, because I definitely did doze off a few minutes. She awakens to the horrific discovery that Bas has given Theo to another family, allegedly to expedite his trip to safety. Aleida is of course hysterical and furious and attempts to leave Bas to search for Theo amid the chaos. Bas doesn’t cotton to that and tells the distraught mother if she departs his company, she won’t have the address of the kind family he was given to. He also threatens to beat the crap out of her. The next thing that happens is one of these good news/bad news things. The good news is Bas is killed in the German hostilities—yay! But the bad news is, the address of Theo’s future whereabouts dies with him. This is a huge problem as the kid is only three and speaks no English. His POS dad wouldn’t allow any photos taken of his son that might show his deformity. I told you he was a real sonofabitch! This sets up Aleida’s story.
Then we meat Hugh Collingsworth, intrepid news correspondent, on D-day. Hugh is a good guy—brave, heroic and determined to tell the true story of some-not-so-cool happenings, dealing with British censorship and prejudice . We know he and Aleida are somehow going to meet up and join forces and I suspect Hugh is a pretty good guy to have on your side.
Not too long after this, I abandoned Aleida and Hugh and poor little Theo. The writing is not my preferred style. One of its genres would fall into “women’s fiction,” with prose so lacking in depth, it gives a bad name to the well-populated, heavy-hitting squad of female writers turning out quality prose. Since WWII stories is a favorite genre of mine, I would very possibly have overlooked what I consider light writing and hung in there, but there wasn’t a chance. Why, you may ask?
Short answer: the narrator. The accents are inaccurate and therefore, oh-so. annoying. Hugh’s voice, read by a female, is abysmal. Just imagine the voice we’ve all heard that says, Right-o, old chap!” and that’s Hugh. My eyes rolled, I fought back laughter and that’s just not the way to navigate a WWII novel with very, serious, underlying stories.
It goes without saying all authors aren’t for all people. As popular as this one is, through the many books she has pumped out, I know her light style (also inundated with inner dialogue) is not for me. She has an impressive fan base. She won’t miss me. And I wish whoever hired that narrator would explain themselves. It signed the death certificate.