Jane Gregg > Recent Status Updates

I haven't really loved recent Kate Atkinson as much as her earlier work.

I know people like these characters. They’re horrible. Perkins captures the icky ensemble well. But the witchy-plot line? Just no, not really working. Felt over-wrought (over-written?).

A terrible disappointment from a previously favourite author. Bonkers. And not in a good way.

Sorry, life is too short. I rarely abandon ship like this, but for me, I could not be bothered. DNF

Sorry, life is too short. I rarely abandon ship like this, but for me, I could not be bothered. DNF

Most pleasant.

Most pleasant.

Re-reading.

Re-reading.

DNF / not for me

This is very well written no doubt about that; but I felt it came across as just that bit too formulaic, and made for TV-ish. No doubt there will be a movie made or something awesome on Netflicks which will be very enjoyable. I just can’t rave about it. Obviously the real life precursors are strong here too.

2.5 Readable - but ultimately depressing and bleak from all angles, not limited to but including literary value, narrative quality, structure, characters and plot.

2.5 Readable - but ultimately depressing and bleak from all angles, not limited to but including literary value, narrative quality, structure, characters and plot.

There’s no doubt that Muriel Spark’s control of her narrative and character is something akin to the creme de la creme of her set. An absolute classic.

There’s no doubt that Muriel Spark’s control of her narrative and character is something akin to the creme de la creme of her set. An absolute classic.

Oh what a beautiful, terrible world. Who is the odd girl out? These are the melancholic, perfectly wrought threads of this masterpiece by the inestimable EJH. Exquisite and should not be missed.

Oh yes judge away. Sure, it's silly and chick lit-esque of the most well worn Bridget Jones variety - but let's face it, there are worse things.

Mmmm - really (and I do mean REALLy) bad writing but a relatively 'gripping', topical plot. Yep - a book clearly written with an eye on the inevitable blockbuster movie sure to be coming to a mega-plex near you.

Good grief. I expected to smugly enjoy this - against the trend of the nay-sayers who did not; but no, actually, this is pretty terrible. It's not a lovely meandering memoir as per Edmund White's fabulous City Boy or Inside a Pearl. This is random, self satisfied and highly pointless. Nothing was revealed about the New Yorker, which is the only reason I wanted to read it in the first place.