A beautifully written book, no question. I found myself wishing aspects of it were real: I wanted to go to Robbie's rendition of Midsummer, I wanted to play in the art exhibit...

But about midway, this book just wasn't /doing/ enough for me. All the time in the world, and Addie pines in France for almost two centuries, revisiting her home at least four times, and every time swearing she's here "for closure"? And then she finally gets a taste of a real relationship...and she spends most of it ordering food. Just food! Beer, coffee, gyros, kebabs, croissants - my gods. Maybe it was realistic, but it was also sad, how much our tiny lives revolve around food. I got bored, and then I got angry that Addie wasn't /doing/ more with her time. Is the book /supposed/ to make the reader feel like Luc? Because I don't think so, I think we're supposed to root for Addie... I don't. I found her snobby, and unimaginative, and /she's/ the muse for so many people she passes?!
The meta commentary about writing was the nail in the coffin for me, though. The ending was enough to knock off a star, in my eyes :/. Henry's whole purpose... Is to never have a self, just to prop up Addie? His whole conflict was about feeling purposeless! Way to do Henry dirty.