By Heather A.
My rating: 2 of 5 stars
I have this problem with literary fiction where I’m always waiting for something to happen, then by the end I’m disappointed because nothing does. This applies to this novel, as well as others like Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Nothing happens and I cannot connect to these characters. What is Ruth doing in London? Who was the narrator?? (Third person narrative, with omnipotent ‘I’ randomly popping up.) We’re missing Ruth’s background. I was not empathetic toward Ruth and her life. How is Ruth able to live without consequences? I heard about this book from Roxane Gay’s Bad Feminist and I think if I had read it with a more critical eye I would have got something out of it, but it goes back to what I originally said, literary fiction narrative goes nowhere.
Admittedly, I haven’t read this book, but I just had to stop and say thanks for the comment on Leaving Las Vegas…I thought I was the ONLY one who felt that way. So I just kept my big mouth shut about it because god forbid, I didn’t like the book and love the movie and blah, blah, blah. Because all I kept wondering, the whole time I was reading and watching it, was what the hell is the point??
Now I know I’m not alone in that sentiment.
(I was going to add a little “f*ck yeah!” but then didn’t know how you’d feel about me and my dirty mouth, so restrained myself…kind of. #wickedsmirk)
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