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A review by torifreeman17
Carry the One by Carol Anshaw
1.0
3/10
"What kind of humans are we if we forgive ourselves?"
If I had to sum up my distaste for this book in a single quote, it would be that.
However, I so rarely leave one-star reviews that I feel obligated to justify my reasoning. Based on the summary of this book, I expected a novel about the various ways people process and are affected by grief/guilt. That is not what this book was about. The characters are all fiercely determined to hang on to their guilt for their involvement in the accident as a way to atone for their sins, but that's not really what the story examined.
In an interview included in the end of the book, Anshaw says she wanted to examine the role "time plays in love and obsession, in relationships among siblings, in political convictions, and the struggles of an artist...and the way addiction can trump everything else." I think that was part of the problem; this book tried to be about too much, which left it far too expansive and broad to really be about anything.
The constant jumps through time, if done well, could have really added to the story. Unfortunately, they just left me confused more than anything. A lot of times they felt inconsistent with the character or just completely out of the blue. And following three main characters made it difficult to follow where exactly in the timeline we were.
Also, the constant Conservative/Catholic bashing was a huge turnoff. I have ready many a book in which I and the characters share different and even opposing world views and beliefs, and still enjoyed the story and liked the characters. Anshaw took her bitter resentment toward the right to an extreme that was over the top and unnecessary.
The one thing I did think was well written was the way the sisters dealt with their brother's addictions.
Ultimately, this story was painfully boring. Anshaw is a talented writer, but in this case that wasn't enough to make for a good story. The only reason I pushed through to the end is because this was the only book I brought on vacation with me.
"What kind of humans are we if we forgive ourselves?"
If I had to sum up my distaste for this book in a single quote, it would be that.
However, I so rarely leave one-star reviews that I feel obligated to justify my reasoning. Based on the summary of this book, I expected a novel about the various ways people process and are affected by grief/guilt. That is not what this book was about. The characters are all fiercely determined to hang on to their guilt for their involvement in the accident as a way to atone for their sins, but that's not really what the story examined.
In an interview included in the end of the book, Anshaw says she wanted to examine the role "time plays in love and obsession, in relationships among siblings, in political convictions, and the struggles of an artist...and the way addiction can trump everything else." I think that was part of the problem; this book tried to be about too much, which left it far too expansive and broad to really be about anything.
The constant jumps through time, if done well, could have really added to the story. Unfortunately, they just left me confused more than anything. A lot of times they felt inconsistent with the character or just completely out of the blue. And following three main characters made it difficult to follow where exactly in the timeline we were.
Also, the constant Conservative/Catholic bashing was a huge turnoff. I have ready many a book in which I and the characters share different and even opposing world views and beliefs, and still enjoyed the story and liked the characters. Anshaw took her bitter resentment toward the right to an extreme that was over the top and unnecessary.
The one thing I did think was well written was the way the sisters dealt with their brother's addictions.
Ultimately, this story was painfully boring. Anshaw is a talented writer, but in this case that wasn't enough to make for a good story. The only reason I pushed through to the end is because this was the only book I brought on vacation with me.