“The only thing she could ever conclude was that Robert Kincaid had drawn her in somehow, after only a few seconds of looking at him.”
More novella sized than novel, this little tale impressed me far more than its cinematic counterpart, of which I have only vague recollections. Fortunately, my reading, possibly due to the passage of time, bore little influence of the Streep and Eastwood vehicle of the past. Rather, I pictured Robert Kincaid as a much younger and rather virile type who sweeps a neglected housewife off her feet for a brief and delightful interlude.
There are moments of such perfect romance that are fleeting in life, yet whose memory remains as an indelible impression, This tale recalls those fond remembrances and the “what ifs” that are a constant source of smiles. It is not the most highbrow book and some may find it a little trite, yet I rather enjoyed it,
My only quibble was the clearly masculine view point, There were some aspects of Francesca’s musings that seemed to be unlikely and reflected more what a man might think a woman thinks. Or, perhaps she is unduly influenced by the social norms of the time. Who knows what others think? I can only judge by my own viewpoint.
4 out of 5 bridges are made of wood.