I got about 150 pages before the end of The Essex Serpent before giving up. In theory, this book- about an eccentric Victorian widow-turned-fossil hunter- should have gripped me. It had all the ingredients I usually love in a novel. It was Waterstone’s Book of 2016. EVERYONE seemed to love it. It has a nice cover.
I can’t put my finger on why exactly I disliked it. The characters didn’t really grab me, but that’s not always put me off before. The writing was good, although I was driven to distraction by one character’s obsession with blue, which reminded me of Tim’s ‘blue bloody walls’ outburst in Spaced. But, ultimately, the whole thing bored me. I had an inkling as to how it would end, who would die and so on. I found myself bored and it’s a shame because I so wanted to like it. So many of my friends have adored it and I… didn’t. Maybe it’s because I was reading another book set in Essex (The Witchfinder’s Sister) or I wasn’t in the mood, I don’t know.
I do know that I have form for hating very popular books (oh, hai, Disclaimer and Gone Girl!) and I’m very vocal about what I do like (I am DYING to tell you about See What I Have Done, but I’ve been sworn to hold my typing fingers til March.) I guess I’m just a bit out of the loop on this one.