The beginning of the book made me laugh. But it got progressively less funny as the book went on.
I thought the characters were pretty likeable.  It was chicklit, and it had the requisite perfect ending, but it didn’t make me feel as if I were getting stupider just for reading it.
It was fine.

“What is the French for arsenic and strychnine?” murmured Granny,  who was pointedly ignoring both of them.
“Arsenic and strychnine,” said Oscar, walking up to slot Gauloise into him jade cigarette holder.  “Malevolence is universal.”
The book was long, 789 pages,  which is good for a novel.  I like long books,  because I read so quickly (all […]