This is a 2.75 for me. I’m going to be brutally honest but feel badly in advance for any hurt feelings. If you loved it, I’m happy it’s been enjoyed because I’m sure the author put in a lot of love and energy. 

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The novel has gorgeous descriptions of Italy. I want to visit these places now! The vibe was nice, and surprisingly easy-going for a book about loss. I appreciate that it explores a variation on what mourning can look like. 

But all in all, it was trite and too simple for my tastes. I think it’s what people call a “beach read” — something you can turn off 75% of your brain to enjoy, and that actually requires you do so. I don’t enjoy this level of simplicity. I can’t do it, even when I try. 

I found the writing to be mediocre and overly plain — and not in an artful way. The cadence is often very stilted and the adjectives severely lacking in variety, especially in the many descriptions of weather and food. A lot of this kind of thing: “I take a sip of the champagne. It’s dry and crisp.” (p. 142) There are also a few distracting moments where words are used in strange ways — not wrong but also just not quite right. For example, “…bottle of Sancerre. It’s sweet and delicious. I gobble down a glass.” (p. 159) You did what now? 
😂 That sounds dangerous and potentially messy too, depending on whether or not there was wine in the glass. This gave my family a good laugh, as we took turns pantomiming our personal interpretations. 

The plot requires a fair amount of suspension of disbelief; if you don’t tamp down all curiosity or basic logic, much of what’s left to enjoy about the plot would crumble. The novel is not committed to magical realism, but it also can’t be considered sci-fi or fantasy. It’s missing any explanation for a HUGE plot device, and I think we’re supposed to just be okay with it. 

I guess it’s all just… sophomoric. It may as well end with, “And then I woke up. It was all a dream. The end.” 😬