- Author Dawn French
I do quite love Dawn French, so I really thought this was going to be a great book to read. Perhaps I went into it expecting too much. I know I had waited far too long to read it because I refused to pay the £10 price tag for a Kindle book. It was reduced in price recently, and I snapped it up, and got reading.
It’s really not that great at all. Told by means of three distinct voices, writing in their own diaries - a rather depressing mother, a supremely irritating teenage daughter, and a slightly younger boy obsessed with Oscar Wilde. I must say the three voices are very clear and well-written for what they are, I just found it hard to get interested in any of them.
Perhaps it’s because I have nothing in common with any of those three, but they were not particularly likeable characters anyway. The crux of the story was simple and thus dragged on for a little too long. For a while, I was reading with Dawn French’s voice in my head, and that made it better, but I couldn’t keep it up for the whole book. It was also compounded by the fact that for the crucial part of the story, a sudden diary entry appeared from the dad, which was entirely jolting and inexplicable. I so wanted to like it, but I’m sad to say I didn’t.