Rating: WARTY!
This had sounded good from the description, but it sounded less good when I realized it was merely a prologue to a trilogy, and worse, it was written in mixed voice, with short, third-person interludes that segued into lengthy first-person flashbacks. This is not my kind of a novel. It's a tired, unimaginative, and clunky format. In short it's exactly what I'd expect from an author who boasts a BA in literature and writing, and an MA in Fiction, and especially from someone who apparently studied with novelist John Irving. I read about fifty pages of it, and it was so lethargic that I gave up on it out of tedium.
The story made no intelligent sense from what little bit I did read. I don't get how someone with supposed academic qualifications needs three novels to drag out a single-novel story. But I understand that kind of rip-off does pay well for both publishers and author, and let's face it: it's pretty much all she wrote.
This doctor, in a small New England town, goes to work on the night shift and is delivered a police detainee who is suspected in a murder - to which she confessed when found by a police officer. She wore a blood-soaked shirt, and was walking without a coat on a freezing night. The police brought her to the hospital for evaluation, and the doctor could find nothing wrong with her physically, but she started telling him a story of herself and her partner - a man she killed at his own request. They were she claimed, extraordinarily long-lived people. She kept urging the doctor to let her escape, but if she'd really wanted that, why not do it when she was free instead of wandering down a highway to be picked up by the police?!
Like I said, it made no sense, the first person voice was ridiculous - as it typically is. There's no way she had that kind of photo-perfect and audio-perfect recollection after all those years, so it lost all credibility for me. The idiot doctor was buying into everything she said without a shred of professional interest in her mental condition, or any sliver of disbelief, so he wasn't remotely believable as a medical practitioner. A case like this screamed for psychiatric evaluation, but nowhere was that discussed.
Even granted all that, her story needed to be nowhere near as detailed as it was. It felt like an amateur attempt at telling a story where no thought had been put into how it would all sound. The author seemed overly-enamored of the framing technique as befit her academic mind-washing: distressed beauty tells story to handsome rescuer, and they fall in love. Barf. No. Just no.
