I have a confession (do you see what I did there?). I didn’t like this book as much as The Minuturist. Sorry. But that’s not to say I didn’t like it, because I did and the one thing I can promise you about this blog is that I wont tell you about books that I don’t like – it’s counterproductive and pointless and offensive to the published author, because in case you don’t know, I am not a published author, so frankly, who am I to say what is good writing and what is not.
Anyway. I did enjoy this book. Jessie Burton has once again formulated fully made characters, who are utterly believable, with a story line which works on every level, with interesting failings and foibles and skill sets and personalities.
Her protagonists are three dimensional, and flawed, and in some cases, rather unlikable, which I always like in a book, and she address’s some interesting themes – abandonment, motherhood and societies perception of motherhood in various different eras and the complexities of being a woman and all that comes with it (among others) – whilst maintaining a sense of mystique and a slight cloak and dagger feel.
It doesn’t have the same appeal for me as The Miniaturist, but I genuinely really love that book, so I think I’m being unfair in wanting basically to have it all over again.
The Confession is a story about someone who has spent her life trying to figure who she is, without having any knowledge of where she came from and I liked the catch 22 element which elevated the suspense. Recommended.