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This is one of the few books I couldn't finish. (Might try again another time.) It's always problematic if a man tries to write a woman's view and vice versa. The result, in this case, is 3 completely annoying, unlikeable women who act first and think later, if at all, self-centred and without regard for others, stumbling, bumbling through a series of events unrealistic enough to make you angry. I hated them, and I hated the book, even if it is well-written, despite always having loved the author's other books passionately.
I liked the atmosphere of Edinburgh, which Mr Johnstone creates in an Ian Rankin way. However, I struggle with the three generations of Skelf women, none of whom seems remotely real to me, and the plot really creaks in quite a number of places. In fact, the ending is simply incredible, and not in a good way.