Page 296 feels like a hundred pages too many.  Enough already.  Who edited this book?  It is dragging on and on, bogged down and overwhelmed by too many romantic changes-of-heart and superficial nonsense, so much that I don’t care anymore about Andras or Klara or Polaner, etc….  The Nazis are marching toward them, toward Paris, and all of these characters are so entrenched in their teenage-like dramas it’s not even believable.

This saddens me.  Orringer is an excellent writer — she deserved a much better editor.

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