Bel Canto

Well this was rough. “A house full of hostage takers and hostages, all horny for an opera singer” could have saved me a few hours and would have accurately reflected the entire book. Alas, most of the story I felt like I was watching paint dry, somewhat convinced that when it was done, a beautiful picture might appear. Details emerged, enough of them not to make me quit the book, but not enough to make me forget I was watching paint dry.

The ending was, oddly, exactly what you'd think it would be, chased by a preposterous epilogue.

Do I wish Patchett gave me my time back? No. But did the last page made up for the rest? Also no.

Still, I'm giving it three stars, for lukewarm, absurdist entertainment value.