My rating: 1 of 5 stars
Very rarely do I come across a book that makes me so angry and disappointed in it’s author that I cannot finish it.
Townsend (who I was a fan of due to her brilliant Mole series) really dropped the ball with this one.
It is full of characters so horrific and unlike-able with no redeeming features whatsoever.
From the selfish, melodramatic and (cliché-ridden) doormat of the central character Eva Beaver who married a bigoted bully when they didn’t even like each other, to her neurotic, pampered, almost incestuous prodigy twins (named after that father no less) this is a mess.
Don’t be fooled by the reviews claiming it’s “hysterical” either. Unless you find someone so obnoxious that she asks three people to deal with her waste (via funnels and carrier bags) rather than touch the floor on the way to her lavish en-suite, a real rib-tickler of a situation.
You wouldn’t have these people as friends. Don’t waste precious reading time inviting them into your lives.