I enjoyed the first few chapters of this book, and I admired Oliver Wyman's narration, which gave a documentary-like feel to the story. But I started to lose heart when young Henry and young Mary Jane started to talk: maybe there's not much a narrator can do with little kid voices. But I just don't buy the weird love triangle that Grunwald set up; it felt like a plot device. The children felt too much like stereotypical grown-ups: detached boy, lovesick girl. In a novel about the ways that theories of children get in the way of how we experience children, I found this to be particularly disturbing, and I lost my trust in the author.
I want to enjoy the novel more, but the narration is ruining it for me. I may actually stop listening and go check this book out of the library so I can read the rest without having it delivered to me in Jamie Heinlein's relentless monotone.
I wanted to enjoy this book, but it I was frustrated by the wooden characterization and the slow pace. More frustrating was the fact that the story seems to hinge on certain realizations that I could see coming almost from the first chapter.
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