This is another example of a reasonably talented writer who blows it in terms of style and character motivation. Bloom’s novel is about the life of a woman and the men who love her throughout it. And while the story seems to flow effortlessly at many points, at others – especially when describing sex – the language becomes self-conscious and overly flowery, trying a bit too hard to be stylistic.

I would tolerate that if I found the characters a bit more likeable. But I could never get a handle on them. I didn’t believe that they really loved one another, not for so long, not over so many absences. I might have accepted that for the central couple, the high schools sweethearts in an interracial relationship, separated by an intolerant father. But I couldn’t believe it for the junior high school teacher who falls for his student and maintains that love for her until she becomes an adult and nurses him through his terminal illness, seemingly motivated by her own asexual love for him.

So that’s where the story fell apart for me. What were these people doing? When were they going to change? By the end, I didn’t particularly care.