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A review by shruish
Wilde Like Me by Louise Pentland
2.0
Originally posted on This is Lit.
When I first picked this book up, I thought it would be a fun, easy-going read; just the contemporary fix I needed in a month filled with serious reads. But this book did not live up to my expectations at all.
The main character, Robin, marketed as a person you’d love to be friends with it, was just plain annoying. She has a woe-is-me attitude and constantly keeps referring to her depression as “The Emptiness”. The woman has an amazing daughter, an aunt who’d do anything for her, a sweet best friend, and a decent job. And yet, the only cure for her “Emptiness” is a man in her life.
This book has a lot of great characters, but we just don’t hear about them much. They aren’t developed enough and are mentioned only to move the story along. For a good three-quarters of the book, Robin is sad and constantly ignores the other people in her life too. She wallows in self-pity all the time.
It’s only in the last quarter that she becomes bearable and learns how she can get over her depression. This realization doesn’t occur over the course of the book, it’s just a sudden conclusion for Robin.
The authors tells–rather than showing–us what happens in the story. The writing is also nothing to write home about. Overall, I was a little disappointed that this book wasn’t all that it could have been.
When I first picked this book up, I thought it would be a fun, easy-going read; just the contemporary fix I needed in a month filled with serious reads. But this book did not live up to my expectations at all.
The main character, Robin, marketed as a person you’d love to be friends with it, was just plain annoying. She has a woe-is-me attitude and constantly keeps referring to her depression as “The Emptiness”. The woman has an amazing daughter, an aunt who’d do anything for her, a sweet best friend, and a decent job. And yet, the only cure for her “Emptiness” is a man in her life.
This book has a lot of great characters, but we just don’t hear about them much. They aren’t developed enough and are mentioned only to move the story along. For a good three-quarters of the book, Robin is sad and constantly ignores the other people in her life too. She wallows in self-pity all the time.
It’s only in the last quarter that she becomes bearable and learns how she can get over her depression. This realization doesn’t occur over the course of the book, it’s just a sudden conclusion for Robin.
The authors tells–rather than showing–us what happens in the story. The writing is also nothing to write home about. Overall, I was a little disappointed that this book wasn’t all that it could have been.