Normally when I do a book review I’ll put the cover of the book up for illustration. Since this cover is particularly creepy, I think I’ll pass.
And, really, this isn’t a book review because I’m only 75% of the way through it and given the way this book twists and turns like a mountain road, there’s no telling how I’ll feel about it five percent from now.
I will say this. Everyone has been saying that this book “defies description” and that “you’ve never read a book like this.”
Neither of those things are true. The book is very easily described; it’s just that any description gives away what is only a twist if you are one of the people who have never read a book like this.
If, like me, you HAVE read a book like this (and very recently), The Man From Primrose Lane is STILL a good book. It’s good enough that I read it 75% of the way through in one sitting even while distracted by monstrous pain.
So the complaints I have are only niggling ones at this point, and are less with the story than they are with the way everyone acts like the story is the second coming of Story Christ.