Every so often, I approach a book with a complete misunderstanding of its content. In 2003, when everyone was raving about The Da Vinci Code, I assumed it was a novel with some sort of literary merit. Imagine my disappointment when I discovered it was plot-driven, poorly-written froth. I had the opposite experience with Bridget Foley’s Hugo & Rose. When I read its description on Amazon, I thought it would be light summer reading but discovered it was a much heavier.
The story was slow to start, and I only persisted because I had read good reviews of the book. I could relate to Rose’s feelings of dissatisfaction with marriage, parenthood, and her post-childbirth body. I could relate less to her dream world, which I often found tedious and boring. I found the first half of the book uninspiring but ended up surprised by the turn it took in the second half, although that is not necessarily a positive thing.
The story was slow to start, and I only persisted because I had read good reviews of the book. I could relate to Rose’s feelings of dissatisfaction with marriage, parenthood, and her post-childbirth body. I could relate less to her dream world, which I often found tedious and boring. I found the first half of the book uninspiring but ended up surprised by the turn it took in the second half, although that is not necessarily a positive thing.
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