So I finished The Butterfly House by Marcia Preston.
I did enjoy this book. I found it interesting and enjoyed the themes of examining friendship and mother/daughter relationships.
However, I did guess the ending before it came and each of the clues meant to lead me away from the right conclusion only cemented my sureness that I was right.
This coupled with the real clues being skipped over so that they appeared inconsequential only added to my sureness.
So, in the end I read to the satisfying conclusion that what I thought was going to happen did. But I unfortunately didn’t read the ending in that blissfully ignorant way, dying to know what happens next, unable to put it down.
However, I should note so there’s no confusion, my guessing of the ending isn’t a reflection on the authors work or ability at all. This is something that happens to me in almost all the books I read now and stems from studying literature at University.
Unfortunately that’s the downside of studying books, you deconstruct and learn storylines, how they are put together and how to take them apart.
And, although I loved studying for my degree, it has spoilt my blissful enjoyment of nice books like this one, because I can almost always guess what will happen.
However, I am such a reader, that my reading now takes on a strange fever of desperately searching for that one author whose stories I can’t guess.
The search continues…
Missed the first part of this review? Read my thoughts on The Butterfly House here.