I hated this book. I hated this book so much I have stopped reading it. I hated it so much I don't even want to waste time writing about it. Critics loved it, raved about it, swooned over it. All I can say is WTF? Did they really read it? It is pretentious bollocks...the only thing I might have learnt is that I should maybe look at a piece of art in a gallery for longer before deciding I don't like it and that just because there are words on a page it doesn't mean they actually mean anything. I decided today that half of the book is enough. I have stopped reading it after the end of the first story. I skim read the second half and got nothing but eye strain. I have since found out that different versions have the two stories printed in the opposite order. What a bloody gimmick.
I have realised, thanks in part to my friend Tanya, that life is far too short to waste on shite books. For gods sake, I only have about enough time in my life to read about 0.000001% of the books I would like to read. So this is going in my charity bag. The one thing I have learnt here in spades is JANE, DONT get swayed by critics. On the plus side it only cost me a quid from a charity shop.
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