Have you ever started reading a book and you know straight away that it isn’t going to be your cup of tea?
That’s what happened here.
This is an awful book.
Yet it was so bad that I couldn’t stop reading, even if I did speed-read the last chapters just to get it over with.
The Butterfly House by Marcia Preston reads like a slushy Hallmark TV movie: neglected child with an alcoholic mother; a father that ran off with the mother’s brother; a best friend that dies of cancer; a troubled marriage; a suicide attempt; arson, prison and redemption.
Oh, and the butterflies that are meant to have some deep and significant symbolic meaning, but even they die in a fire.
I found this book in a Little Free Library and it has now gone into the recycling bin, to save someone else from having to read it. (Don’t worry – it was an old copy and was in poor condition anyway).
Which of the other books in my TBR pile will I read next? I’m eyeing up The Goldfinch…