it’s always hard to know what to say about a well-written book having characters so repulsive, or boring, or odious in one way or another that you as a reader just don’t want to spend any more time with them.
i’ve no bone to pick at all with Dee’s writing: he does the plot thing well, the characterization thing quite well, all the craftsman things are in place, and he can turn a phrase with very high style. it was his skill that got me through 176 pages of this book.
but i just can’t bear being around these people any more. they have no heart. their money insulates them from every sort of challenge and from Real Life as the rest of us know it. i have no point of connection with them at all–they might as well be tralfamadorians, except that tralfamadorians were at least kind of funny, and polite.
i don’t know what point Dee was trying to make with this book–perhaps that the rich are not like you and me–but after the last few years that has become quite abundantly clear. all i know is, i’d far rather hang out with the folks in The Round House, who for all their poverty, have not sold off their hearts.