Let me start by saying, yes, I read a chick-lit book. For the record, I have also watched numerous Jane Austen adaptations, and on my other blog will be forcing myself to watch National Velvet one day soon. I'm so evolved.
Let me finish by saying that this example of the genre is an execrable time-waster. An indulgent, navel-gazing snoozefest. The "hero" is so repressed, so restrained, so flat, that I can't see why anyone would ever take an interest in him. And to sum it up: he burns the letters. Archival trash, indeed.
THE VERDICT: Failing archival students will be assigned this book as punishment.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
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