Today's book; "A recipe for happiness: four women, one medieval Italian castle, plenty of wisteria, and solitude as needed. The women at the center of this novel are alike only in their dissatisfaction with their everyday lives. They find each other - and the castle of their dreams - through a classified ad in a London newspaper one rainy February afternoon."
This wasn't the book I had intended to read today. I started out reading a different book but I just couldn't quite get into it so I switched to this book. Okay I'll be honest, that's not the whole reason why I switched books. The other book was a novel about a chef and I just couldn't handle reading anymore about cake that I'm allergic to. I tried my usual, "Why would I want cake when I can eat an apple," but that just wasn't cutting it when I got to the third page in a row that was describing desserts. I was starting to feel like the book was mocking me, so I stopped reading it.
I didn't really enjoy today's book either, and I really wanted to because I love the concept behind the book. I got to page 68 of today's book and I still didn't care what happened next, and I didn't like any of the characters, and I wasn't enjoying it at all. But by the time I realized that I wasn't going to enjoy the book I was too far into it to stop and try a third book - plus I think the problem is me. Oh my goodness I sound like I'm in the middle of a high school break-up, "It's not you, it's me. We just want different things." In this case I want to read a book with characters that aren't annoying the crap out of me, and the author wants to fill the book with people who either have no personalities or really bad ones. It's just not going to work out. I think the book and I will be better off going our separate ways.
The part of the book I enjoyed the most was the introduction. It wasn't the usual annoying kind of introduction most older books have where they give away the entire plot and make me think, Well what's the point of reading the book now. This introduction focused on the history behind the creation of the book, with a mini biography of the author and her really bad taste in men thrown in. Here's the most interesting piece of information: When The Enchanted April was first published the author was identified only as Elizabeth, leaving readers to spend the next year entertaining themselves with attempting to crack the mystery of the authors identity. It kind of reminds me of that reality show that used to be on called The Mole (which I'm almost ashamed to admit that I watched). Oh if only I had broken up with that show instead of wasting my time watching two seasons. Okay, three if you count the celebrity edition that I also watched.
