Wasn't quite sure how I felt about this book and only finished reading it because I *needed* to know. Then I quite liked the ending, it was mature and somewhat open but definitely a step in the right direction and the second I read the word epilogue I knew my joy had been premature.
Moriarty's strength is in the biting description of urban family life, so if you can't relate to it—raises hand—it's probably safer to stay away. Mysteries be damned.
The ending fell a bit flat for me. I understand why the author went there, but it did take something out from the joy I'd been having with this book. Other than that, I've been told this book is an accurate description of a certain way of life and I'm so glad I'm not part of it. Which is to say:
Tips!
Read this, if you don't plan on having kids or already have all the ones you're going to have.
Don't read this, if you're planning on having kids.
I think they had it right the first time. The only literature value I found in this book was purely on the meta-level in its contemporary description of just how much the 1950s sucked. And I mean sucked hard.
Death makes a classic, I guess.
[Title quote source: Kirk, Connie Ann. (2004). Sylvia Plath: A Biography. Westport, CN: Greenwood Press. ISBN 0-313-33214-2.]
I managed to get through the Finnish foreword, and I'm sure there are many pertinent facts in this book. But if the original author's style is anything like the translators, I'm going to be overdosing my quota for preachiness within a few pages.
In fact, I think I already did.
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