A Map of the World, by Jane Hamilton

I got about a hundred pages into this book before realizing that I really didn't want to read it. Hamilton's writing is good, very good, and I did enjoy her skill in describing the midwestern summer. But the subject matter was simply too much for me. Reading is my form of escapism, that's why I love fantasy and science fiction so much. So to read about such horrible things as babies drowning and accusations of sexual abuse from an entire community is really not my idea of enjoyment. It's a shame, really, since I did like her writing, but I read in order to escape the insanity and evil of the real world, and have no desire to spend my free time reading about such things in fiction.


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