This book has me torn. On one hand, I did enjoy it. Although the first half is quite slow, I felt compelled to finish the story and "complete the mystery", persay. The language is over the top verbose, both giving the storytelling a pretentious overtone and adding spice to an otherwise repetitive series of murders. Some of the writing creates cringe. I don't need to hear her assign herself a psychopath for the tenth time; show, don't tell. So much effort to pronounce Dorothy's sexuality and crassness through multitudes of sexual references. The last few chapters are where it fell apart for me. Summers attempts to make statements about love and growing old as a woman. Fine, but that was not the focus of the story up until that point. Like

the story of Alex

, I recognized several times the Summers' intent strayed, leaving sections disjointed. It's funny how the wordiness is both a positive and a negative, I both enioyed and saw many ideas I'd change in this book. I recommend it, but not with too high expectations.