I'm about halfway through I Know This Much Is True, and I think I know enough to give a preliminary review. I may change my opinion after I'm finished, but I doubt it. I'm too far in, even if it improves dramatically from this point forward.
If I was talking to this book at a party, I'd have gone to freshen my drink a long time ago.
If I was on a blind date with this book, I'd excuse myself to the ladies room and never return, even if I had to climb out the window to make my escape.
This book is a like a wreck on the side of the road. You can't help slowing down, and you may be tempted to look at the carnage, but you don't have to look. And I'd rather not.
If I hadn't promised to read it to salve my Guilty Conscience. So, I'm looking.
This book moves very quickly, but it has no depth. It has way too many themes, side characters, cheap thrills, and startling coincidences, and it isn't emotionally resonant at all. I'm mildly interested, but not engaged. Despite components of twinship, mental illness, and family secrets, I don't really care what happens.
Five hundred pages in, I haven't used a single sticky tab, which means I haven't marked even one passage that seems worth quoting.
And I hate the little pop culture references: "This was starting to feel like L.A. Law." Please.