It started cold open without any explanation and set-up of the incident.
It was descriptive enough to know about the life around the pond like not only was everything told, but everything showed. The casual mentions of the horsetail reeds, and lily pad stems revealed the ecosystem around the woods and the pond and nicely blended with the story.
I felt the salt in the air, the smell of fish, the whisper of the pines, the swim in the fishy water, the pleasant mind after the swim, the rustic metals in the salty air, the holiday fling, and finally the feeling that it gets sandy everywhere. Little thoughts were flawlessly narrated.
The story flew by, so it was not slow in the beginning. I can't quite agree that it was not slow, but the writing style captivated me enough to make me want to read further. I didn't want to miss the intensity of the backwoods, so I continued.
This book is divided into two divisions: one is the current story, and the other is two to three decades back.
It has a lot of characters. I kept a list of the complex relationships(especially, who is trying to shag who ;-)) that existed between each character. This book often talked about sexual things, which I frowned on. It was orgy as well. Most of the mentions didn't harm me, as they were short and not descriptive.
The romance is lacking in this book so can't be a romance genre, but the pedo lifestyle, its agony, and infidelity took up some pages.
You know, after trudging along for 3/4 of the book, I hoped for an interesting, good story, but I hardly found it interesting. It was so mediocre. I got the feeling it was a story about the place, and the characters were trivial.
None of them were likeable characters for me except Anna. She was bold, friendly, and supportive of her sister.
I'm so pleased with Miranda's writing style. The author didn't shy away from describing the wholesome, unique, authentic, and dark nature of the psychiatric disorder.
If I breakthrough the fog of infidelity, there is a picturesque beauty in the backwoods but it has its own shame. It is raw and flawed.
The Paper Palace is Shabby Chic.
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