![]() *notably, I was onto the Ben and Theo plot lines from the beginning. I may have also rolled my eyes (hard) and done a few loud, huffy sighs. In short (and I’ll keep it short as the book was so wretchedly long), The Lake House was too contrived had far too many convenient parallels between the heroines of the 1930s story and the 2003 story had a stupid number of coincidences had too many words and had a ludicrous ending that made me mutter “For God’s sake…”. Morton’s descriptions of the house, the garden and the family as they prepare for a grand Midsummer’s Eve party were appealing however things quickly stalled. The story opens in the 1930s, at a large estate in Cornwall. With Ham’s words in the back of my mind, Morton’s mentions of this, that and the other* were like beacons, alerting me to exactly how things would play out. ![]() It’s a dual mystery, yo-yoing between the 1930s and 2003 – there’s lots of complicating family secrets and missing (possibly dead) people. ![]() I was reminded of Ham’s comment as I slogged through 593 pages of Kate Morton’s The Lake House. She used the example of a novel beginning with a husband making mention that he loves his wife – Ham’s first thought is “Well, she’ll be dead by the end of this book!” ![]() When I saw the author Rosalie Ham speak earlier this year, she mentioned that she never reads novels while she is writing one – the reason being, she becomes highly attuned to structure and spots plot tricks everywhere. ![]()
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