Did you ever read a book which was very close to achieving the elusive “literature” title, but didn’t quite make it? I find that there’s nothing quite as frustrating as that. I found that was the case in the book What She Saw by Lucinda Rosenfeld. Just on the cusp of becoming literature, it lacked the all important accurate psychological element, making it almost painful to read. If only Rosenfeld had thought her novel through a bit more, she could have had something on the bestseller list!
The main character in this book, Phoebe Fine (ah yes, the irony), doesn’t really have anything in her background, psycholigically speaking, that would make her turn out the way she does. It ruined the book for me because every time Phoebe did something which would only make sense if it was caused by a psychological issue from her past, I felt irritated since there were no psychological issues from her past, which made most of the novel unrelatable and unrealistic.
While I enjoyed reading the book at a basic level, I couldn’t get as excited about it as I wanted to because it lacked that necessary psychological depth we see in all great literature.
Have you read a book that you’ve found frustrating in this way or in a similar way?
