I’m not one for giving up on books. For many reasons, but mainly, a book is someone else’s project. Someone had an idea and worked hard on it: wrote it, got an agent, got a publisher, finally got it published. And then the book finds its way to you as a reader. But these two, I just couldn’t bear to turn another page. A little voice inside me cried every time I sat to read them telling me there is a pile of books with which I’d rather spend my time with:
1. The Pleasures of Men by Kate Williams.
Everything in this book made it sound like a perfect read: Victorian London, murders, a female main character and behind the story, a well-known, respected and young British historian. But it was too dark, too twisted and don’t get me wrong, I’m all for dark and twisted but I feel they need to make sense, fit into the story and have a motive. Not that I could find any of that in this book. I was really sorry to feel this way since I myself requested it.
2.There Once Lived a Girl Who Seduced Her Sister’s Husband, and He Hanged Himself: Love Stories by Lyudmila Petrushevskaya
I didn’t request this one, the publisher did, and I thought it would be a great idea to read something not-so typically romantic this Valentine’s Day. Well, it’s May and I had only read half of it and didn’t intend on keep on reading. Of course, I see they are supposed to be ironic love stories, but I just couldn’t see it. The women in them were constantly abused, subjected and suffered because of their children: either because they chose to sacrifice themselves or because they follow society’s rules. Not my cup of tea at all.