The Woman Who Stole My Life

Wow, I just finished “The Women Who Stole My Life” by Marian Keyes, and I've gotta say, it was a struggle to get through. 500 pages of pure frustration? Check. Boring plot? Double check.

Let's start with the characters - or should I say, the lack of character development. It felt like Keyes had a vague outline and just threw in whatever popped into her head. The result? A repetitive mess with a writing style that left a lot to be desired.

And don't even get me started on the main character. Without giving away spoilers, her decisions were so infuriating that I found myself wanting to throw the book across the room. How many times can you yell “Why?!” at a page before you lose your mind?

The plot conveniences were off the charts. I mean, seriously? How is any of this supposed to make sense? And backstory? What backstory? It's like Keyes forgot that readers might want to know, oh I don't know, why things are happening?

There were a few funny moments sprinkled throughout, but they were so few and far between that they definitely weren't worth slogging through the rest of the book for.

I'm feeling generous, so I'll give it two stars instead of one. There were a couple of redeeming qualities, but they were about as rare as finding a four-leaf clover in a concrete jungle.

In short, unless you're a masochist who enjoys literary torture, you might want to give this one a hard pass.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​