I think I have come to the end of my Diane Chamberlain reading spree. I can only take so much guilty pleasure before I just start feeling like I'm blushing way too much.
Kiss River. I'll say what I said in my last Chamberlain book review: "It's a good, satisfying tale of improbable events." This one was kind of crazy, with all kinds of things going on from German U-boat attacks to an orphanage in India to a search-and-rescue gone awry. There's a whole lighthouse component that I never quite figured out, a psychological study of promiscuity, a bad tattooed-guy and three old guys who play poker every day, and a lot of seafood. My head is kind of spinning just thinking about it all.
Somehow, though, this one didn't resonate with me in the way the other Chamberlain books did. This is the one that made me say, "Enough." I'm on to meatier things now, like Celia Rivenbark's You Don't Sweat Much for a Fat Girl.
Oh dear. I really need to get back to Books with Substance before I turn into a big ball of fluff.
(Should you read Kiss River? If you need a total escape from reality with all kinds of twists and turns and weird, disconnected events. Sure.)