My rating: 1 of 5 stars
Picked this off the Library's "New" shelf as perfect vacation reading, forgetting that Phillips is no Jennifer Crusie, Marian Keyes, or Jennifer Weiner. Lines like "'Is it possible you saw your relationship with her as a way to make up for what had happened to Regan?'. . . She'd gotten her insights into human psychology in acting workshops dedicated to understanding a character's deepest motivations. . . .'Have you ever thought that writing might be your rebellion against whatever it is inside you that makes you feel responsible for other people?'" (277) coupled with characters so wooden that they're impossible to picture, let alone see as actual human beings, keep this book firmly in the fluff category. Vague overtones of Jane Eyre and way too many plot-lines to even call it "predictable" kept me interested enough to read to the end, but if it hadn't been bitter cold and snowy outside, I doubt I'd've stuck with it.
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Well, the storm didn't really materialize, but it's been cold and intensely wintery weather nonetheless. Tomorrow I head down to see Dad, still hospitalized but improving, and have lunch with Mom, and then will head back up. It's been a pleasant and deliberately lazy stretch of "Sherlock," good food, knitting, occasional snow forays, breakfast out this am, "Parenthood," and reading. Big Thing is that I finally finished Nate's sweater:
That's it washed and blocking, so will post a pic of him wearing it later. The neckline (featured above) was our original tweak (redo #5, in fact), and it came out brilliantly. Can't wait to see him sportin' it. Yarn is cleaned out, needles put away, and I am ready to start something else. FINALLY.
So. Nice vacation so far. Peaceful.