If you know Jodi Picoult, you know it is her shtick to have long books that deal with modern moral dilemmas. She looks at problems from many, many sides and throws in lots of curve balls. Just when you think you have a handle on the issue or have formed an opinion, she throws in another complicating factor.
After reading My Sister’s Keeper I was loath to read another of Picoult’s books. She is easy to read with her train of consciousness, conversational style; deals with with interesting issues; and is well-informed, obviously researching the topics. So why am I loath to read her work? Because she plays with our emotions. I didn’t like the twist at the end of My Sister’s Keeper which seemed a contrived tool to bring us to tears one last time. Also the formulaic plot (intro idea, twist, development, twist, development and so on) is predictable. I challenge Picoult to write a book of less than 150 pages. I know, that’s not her style. Precisely. That’s why I don’t read her often.
Anyway, I won’t outline the plot. You can do that with Wikipedia. I did. I had to know that there wouldn’t be a last minute death or I wouldn’t bother reading it. For those who say that ruins the joy, the purpose, the reason for reading, I say I don’t like artificial twists or suspense. The joy for me is seeing how characters work out their issues, and the linguistic style. I don’t do suspense. Once I know the story, I can sit back, relax and enjoy the details, the author’s style.
I can’t work out whether Picoult uses issues to support her long-winded narratives or uses long-winded narratives to delve into issues. This one is about IVF and the rights of gays to marry and have children. The ending proves Picoult’s point that love is more important.
Today’s decluttered item = I left my copy of the book in our holiday accommodation for someone else to enjoy. No point carrying it home; happy to share books.