Pathetic. Since Agnello Hornby is considered to be a major Italian author, I figured I had to read something by her at one point or another, but this book was, you guess it, pathetic.
Set in an overtly romanticized Sicily, at a time when life was better because it was simpler (if you were rich, duh), this love triangle is predictable and vapid. It also reads as the author, and not her characters, is bitter because at the (real or supposed) exploitation of Southern Italy by the North (when her aristocratic family did the exploiting though, things were fine?).
And, in spite of thanking Christoper Duggan for his historical advice, there are enough historical inaccuracies to rub the reader (or at the very least me!) the wrong way. This is not a 21st century Il Gattopardo. This is a waste of time.
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