[OOPS! Commenter Elle points out an egregious error in my post. The book wasn’t longlisted for the Booker as I thought, it was shortlisted for the Bailey’s Prize. ]
When I posted about the tower of 26 hardcover books I want to focus on from now until the end of the year, there was a bit of a Twitter war about one title. Okay, it was nowhere near a war, but it was a lively discussion about whether The Improbability of Love by Hannah Rothschild was terrible or kind of amusing. Having now plowed through said novel I am ready to pass judgement.
- I found it amusing.
- I love a story about art treasures found in junk shops. (See also Alan Bennett’s Talking Heads monologue The Hand of God.)
- I not only didn’t mind the fact that the painting talked, I actually kind of liked his perspective.
- This book in no way deserves to be longlisted for any literary prize let alone the Booker.[see my OOPS above]
- It’s all way too pat. It’s in the Potato Peel Pie, Marigold Hotel, Maisie Dobbs, Harold Fry, school of plotting. That isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it isn’t prize-worthy.
- It seems to have served as an “I know a lot about art history and want to show you” fiction delivery system.
- I saw one of the mysteries coming a mile away.
- Why do so many books/movies think that spurned women are going to cook their way to a new life? (I’m thinking of that Keri Russell pie making movie and a Julia Glass novel to name just two.)
- Worth a read, found it a page turner, but no great shakes.