Scan barcode
A review by bmf
City of Friends by Joanna Trollope
1.0
Oh I am so excited to write this review just because I want to vent about how much I hated this book. It was given to me by a friend and is not the sort of book I would ordinarily choose for myself but, believing it a good thing to read books you wouldn't normally read I tried it. Let's break this down shall we:
Characters: A collection of bland middle-aged women barely distinguishable from each other save for their differing jobs and family lives. Personality wise I would have struggled to tell you who was speaking were it not for the giant names at the start of each chapter. I tried to become invested in them but I just couldn't.
Writing style: Oh my god. Oh my god where do I start with this one? That cardinal rule of writing show don't tell? Perhaps when you've written as many books as Trollope you belive this rule stops applying to you because the first four chapters are just an info dump of backstory. "This happened and then she loved this person and then she did this" like someone who wanted to prove that she had written backstories for her characters regardless of whether they were important. Similarly with habits and personalities instead of telling us it would be "'blah blah' as she was of this disposition' 'she believed blah blah blah' I mean motivations and actions should be revealed to us, not slapped on the middle of the page like we're too dumb to get the nuances of language unless she's telling us why she's made this character choose such an action.
Plot: This was probably the biggest issue I had. Every single supposed plot point was just such a tiny thing that was treated like a huge plot twist with every character over-reacting in response? "She hired someone" Oh no?? what a betrayal??? Hiring someone who is right for the job??? "Character A got Character B's husband a promotion and now Character B is angry" what? Get some perspective. I couldn't get to grips with how these characters were rationalising their decision.
Perhaps being twenty one and in an entry level job made me completely the wrong person to sympathise with issues framed within the words "well of course money isn't an issue" every other chapter. This is without touching on the white saviour role of one of the characters.
Sorry Joanna Trollope but I often forgot this was a book and not me just observing someone's dull day-to-day existence.
Characters: A collection of bland middle-aged women barely distinguishable from each other save for their differing jobs and family lives. Personality wise I would have struggled to tell you who was speaking were it not for the giant names at the start of each chapter. I tried to become invested in them but I just couldn't.
Writing style: Oh my god. Oh my god where do I start with this one? That cardinal rule of writing show don't tell? Perhaps when you've written as many books as Trollope you belive this rule stops applying to you because the first four chapters are just an info dump of backstory. "This happened and then she loved this person and then she did this" like someone who wanted to prove that she had written backstories for her characters regardless of whether they were important. Similarly with habits and personalities instead of telling us it would be "'blah blah' as she was of this disposition' 'she believed blah blah blah' I mean motivations and actions should be revealed to us, not slapped on the middle of the page like we're too dumb to get the nuances of language unless she's telling us why she's made this character choose such an action.
Plot: This was probably the biggest issue I had. Every single supposed plot point was just such a tiny thing that was treated like a huge plot twist with every character over-reacting in response? "She hired someone" Oh no?? what a betrayal??? Hiring someone who is right for the job??? "Character A got Character B's husband a promotion and now Character B is angry" what? Get some perspective. I couldn't get to grips with how these characters were rationalising their decision.
Perhaps being twenty one and in an entry level job made me completely the wrong person to sympathise with issues framed within the words "well of course money isn't an issue" every other chapter. This is without touching on the white saviour role of one of the characters.
Sorry Joanna Trollope but I often forgot this was a book and not me just observing someone's dull day-to-day existence.