Review copy courtesy of Gollancz.
Every so often, I come across a book that, through no fault of its own, I find unreadable. I have hit two such books in recent days, Carol Berg’s Dust and Light – which I find unfinishable, though there’s nothing really wrong with it – and now, today, Anna Caltabiano’s The Seventh Miss Hatfield. Caltabiano is apparently an adolescent prodigy, selling this novel at the age of seventeen, and people whose judgement I respect enjoyed it…
…but I can’t read it. The voice and the style puts me off entirely.
Oh, well. Not every book is for every reader. It is useful to be reminded of that, sometimes.