thewitchygrannie 's review for:

The Last Bookshop in London by Madeline Martin

2.0

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It was a perfectly nice storyline. However, I felt disconnected from the characters. It felt like I was told what happened without being drawn into the story. I never experienced what the character felt. I was told what she felt: grief, fear, etc. Yet I was never shown, not really. Not beyond a few half-developed descriptions. It felt more like a story written for the hopes of becoming a nice Hallmark movie. It also felt ironic that the core of this story is a character who found the power of how books can transport readers into grand adventures as forms of escapism, yet I never felt transported once.

I think the plot has the makings of a great book, but the writing allowed me to experience the lives lived. For example, characters write letters back and forth, yet other than a few lines shared, we don’t see what was shared. We can’t experience the growing bond between the characters. Rather it is merely stated the characters grew closer through letters and that they shared more about their inner selves. It’s the concept of “Don’t tell me, show me.” There’s a line reputed to have been written by a Russian playwright: “Don't tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass."

The characters never came alive for me, and, for that, this book made no impression on me and will only fade from my memory.