I found this old best-seller in a phone
box turned book exchange in Lewisham and I’ve only really picked it up
because once upon a time my mom won a literary award that was presented to her
by Joanne Harris (I was more interested in the 10kg of chocolate that came with
it though).
Unfortunately, the book is way more The
Little Coffee Shop of Kabul (minus its underlying racism and a little less
shallow) than Babette’s Feast. The characters are overall so dreadfully
predictable, the attacks on the Catholic Church and on life in small villages
not inventive, and the plot, well, borderline pathetic. The only remotely
interesting part was the children story-esque ending, with the evil priest gorging
on chocolate before fleeing.
Really not a wonder then that this book sold
so many copies.
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