HOLY FOOLS - Joanne Harris

Just when you thought I'd never met a book I didn't like, along comes Holy Fools.  And I seem to be all alone in this antipathy.  I have just finished reading a bunch of reviews, all of which seem to find it a jolly good read.  I found it to be a romance novel gussied up in 17th century French historical pretension involving theatrical troupes and gypsies, an abbey full of loser nuns, one of whom is our protagonist: the former highrope artist, l'Ailé (shouldn't that be l'Ailée?), now living as Soeur Auguste, hiding out with her little daughter.  Hiding out from whom?  you may ask.  It's not entirely clear, but if it's from Guy LeMerle, otherwise known as "The Blackbird," it's totally tant pis, because out of all the abbeys on all the coasts of France, it's hers he picks as the place to come play out his vilest revenge fantasy.  And who is he, anyway?  He is, of course, Juliette's nemesis and heart-throb from her checkered past:  lover, teacher, betrayer, and -maybe- father of her child.

So, I pretty much hated everything about this book:  the story, the writing (overwrought, overwritten, overripe, overdone), most of the characters, the fact that it's fuller of coincidence than any Dickens novel you could name.  It's Chocolat in 17th century clothing, with no indoor plumbing, and no chocolate at all.  Well, I only saw Chocolat as a movie, didn't read it, but I did read Five Quarters of the Orange and didn't care much for it either.  You can go read an excerpt from this silly book here, and even if you like it I'll still be your friend.  I skimmed the last third of it just to get how it all turned out.  Although I could have predicted most of it with my eyes shut.