My bookgroup meets this evening, and after a last minute change of plan last month we’re looking forward to dinner on the house at the local pub, which will surely not divert the conversation from discussing this month’s title
It was an easy read as noted in the review I linked to above, but warm days and sultry nights demand nothing more, really. I enjoyed it and am looking forward to hearing what everyone else thought and if they found the same character as irritating as I did.
Of course, I didn’t see it like that; my main issue with my Kindle being that I don’t see the cover and the blurb unless I go looking for them. But I’d forgotten the prompt which led me to buy the book and simply went straight into the first chapter, taking an almost instant dislike to one of the main characters. It was a good read, I found the setting and location of the story fascinating and instantly wanted to learn more about the Lamorna group of artists whose relationships form the backbone of the tale. I wanted to know if these people were as they were described and if these events really did happen so did a search on the internet and learned a great deal about them. I was glad to learn that the book stays pretty close to what really happened and though the events didn’t always turn out as I expected them to do, it was easy to imagine how in such circumstances, life wouldn’t be quite as straightforward as it could be. I particularly liked the full spectrum of characters. I didn’t like everyone, found one intensely irritating (as I suspect I was supposed to) and warmed to others as the story unfolded.
The trouble is, in googling around, I couldn’t help but come across this and him and from then on, any mental image of his character was of course, good old Matthew Crawley. It didn’t help that as many reviews have noted, there are some broad similarities between Gilbert Evans’ character and the Downton one and as I finished the book, I rather hoped that as I didn’t seem able to avoid the film, it would be worth watching. Sadly, the reviews are not very good (“it’s not a good sign during scenes with him and Florence when you find yourself admiring their earth-toned knitwear”) so I’ll plan to settle for the perfectly acceptable pictures which are in my mind, formed only from the written word (and an unintended image of Dan Stevens as one of the characters).
And for my next book…well, about as far away as a community of artists in pre-war Cornwall was one can get, I think.
And Dan is not invited to the party.