Ate this book up. If you like Chuck P. you won’t be disappointed unless you are really into the queasy edge of intestinal ailements. There’s not as much bowel trouble here. Also, many of the characters -- within the little Stepford Wives set-up, granted -- seem moderately sane. The story is fascinating as always. Poor little artist girl meets handsome rich and troubled island man who immediately knocks her up and marrries her and moves her home. They get embroiled in a major island drama which may or may not have played itself out several times before. He goes nuts, she goes nuts. Kids hate parents, people do weird stuff. Lots of interesting things to say about art. Not as many interesting factoids as usual and this book, unlike many of his others, had an obvious plot device and path from the first couple pages. It’s a diary whose conundrum is revealed somewhat early and we know that what we want to figure out is at the very end. The book is a scant 240 pages or so, so waiting until then is not difficult.
I feel that I enjoy Chuck’s writing so much [even as I can not trust myself to spell his last name correctly] that I am always happy when a book comes out, but then I read it immediately, and then I am sad that there is not another one. I am waiting for him to get like Stephen King and really write a magnum opus. This book was enjoyable to read, but opus it is not.