"Give me books, French wine, fruit, fine weather, and a little music played out of doors by somebody I do not know." - John Keats

"You're not allowed to say anything about books because they're books and books are, you know, God." - Nick Hornby

Sunday, January 3, 2016

Review #50: Palmetto Moon, by Kim Boykin

I'm totally cheating on this one, and taking the synopsis from Amazon. What can I say? I can't quite remember the story. 

June, 1947. Charleston is poised to celebrate the biggest wedding in high-society history, the joining of two of the oldest families in the city. Except the bride is nowhere to be found…
Unlike the rest of the debs she grew up with, Vada Hadley doesn’t see marrying Justin McLeod as a blessing—she sees it as a life sentence. So when she finds herself one day away from a wedding she doesn’t want, she’s left with no choice but to run away from the future her parents have so carefully planned for her. In Round O, South Carolina, Vada finds independence in the unexpected friendships she forms at the boarding house where she stays, and a quiet yet fulfilling courtship with the local diner owner, Frank Darling. For the first time in her life, she finally feels like she’s where she’s meant to be. But when her dear friend Darby hunts her down, needing help, Vada will have to confront the life she gave up—and decide where her heart truly belongs.

That's pretty much the story, but now that I'm rereading the online reviews, I'm remembering that I didn't much care for this book. It was okay, but it wasn't anything to write home about, and I really didn't feel like rooting for any of the characters. Boykin tried to make Vada a strong, independent woman, and I suppose she was, but she also came across as kind of cold and unfeeling. Justin was a one-note jackass, typical Southern frat boy of the era, entitled and spoiled and lazy. And Frank Darling, who I really, really wanted to like, was just so earnest and, well, boring. 

I don't know. There was nothing really wrong with this book, but it just didn't blow my skirts up, I suppose.

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