Immediately, I *hated* the frame story. The opening character, Kit, is a struggling playwright living in Greenwich Village who ventures up to the apartment of the aged but elegant "Aunt Lu" and has tea while listening to her story, which is the basis of the book. My dislike of the frame only got worse when it finally reappeared (after no mention of it throughout Lucia's story) at the end of the book. The characters, including the old Lucia, are flat and there is very little to connect them to the rest of the story.
Lucia's story, told in first person, at first engaged me quite a bit. I know very little about fashion, New York City, the 1950s, and the life of Italian immigrant families, yet I found myself interested in all of these. I was enthusiastic when Lucia breaks off her engagement and her role as a traditional Italian girl--choosing instead to continue her career as a seamstress working for an up-and-coming designer in the customs department of a swanky department store. I thought, hey, cool, it's about a girl who is going to be ahead of her time, who fashions herself after her own pattern rather than the rigid expectations of tradition and culture.
Unfortunately, not so. Even though she sometimes flirts with the idea of striking out and becoming an independent woman throughout the rest of the book, every choice she makes--falling in love with a suave man who eventually cons her out of her heart and life savings, assuming the role of dutiful daughter when the family needs her, and submitting to the will of her traditional brothers--dashes my hopes for her character. In addition, each event and emotion is laid out in such a way as to be completely transparent--no subtlety to speak of.
The book had a couple of good lines, such as my favorite spoken by Lucia's mother: "In my mind, the most dangerous people in the world are insecure women. They can do more damage in a day than an army." Overall, though, the writing was...well, plain. It was writing that got the job done, but it didn't evoke any impressive images in my mind or any real emotion for Trigiani's characters. I know I'm not emotionally invested in the characters or the writing when I find myself skimming paragraphs toward the end. And the ending, ugh. The author goes back to the ugly frame story and slaps on the most sentimental ending ever, with the final act of the book going back and essentially undoing Lucia's original admirable decision at the beginning of her story.
It's not fair, perhaps, to judge a character of the 1950s because she doesn't eschew her family and society's expectations of her in a way that I expect her to, in a different era. Still, the author could have done a better job of helping me to understand her, to sympathize with her plight instead of making me skim over it.