So, how do you write a review for a book for whom you clearly weren’t the intended audience, but you read it anyway? I read it because I was curious about the genre, even though I can’t really say what the genre is. I’m not even sure I know what the theme of the book was. It seems, on the surface, to be about the very ordinary lives of members of Charleston’s privileged society. When I was growing up, one of the favorite jokes in my house was how unrealistic television families were. But, we’d always counter, who would want to watch shows about normal people? The same thing applies to this book, why would anyone want to read a book about such normal people, as they lead their normal lives? They are loyal, or they have affairs. They survive hurricanes, and rebuild, or not. They mourn their dogs. They age. They drift apart and come together. The only conclusion I can come to is that the book is about feelings. This is the ultimate book of introspection, and if you’re really interested in how really ordinary people are feeling about everything and everybody, you might like this book. On the other hand, this wouldn’t be the first time I totally missed the point of a book.
I must say something about the writing. I never realized how sensitive I am to an author using the same phrase more than once in a book, probably because no other author has tested me this way. You wouldn’t think that out of the thousands of words in a book, you’d remember every one, but I think you do. In this book the author repeats her words, and it’s grating. The first time I read that someone felt “obscurely angry”, I was just puzzled, but when I read later someone was “obscurely fearful”, it bothered me. Same for “with every atom of her body”, “she was a Lolita”, and his heart was “hammering”.