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I don't like books that are fictionalised accounts of real people's lives as a general rule, so probably should have just given this book a miss, but I had heard great things about JCO's writing so wanted to give it a go. As a work of literature, it may be well written, but I was so distracted by how mean-spirited the whole work felt that I just can't give it credit even on that level.

I kept on thinking that this is a novel about real people who are either alive today or have family members that could read this, and yet all the characters came across to me as one-note, uniformly awful, with no real complexity to their motivations or good faith in their dealings with the world. Essentially, the story takes a giant dump on more or less everyone involved in the plot and so reads like a gossip rag.

I came out of it feeling as if I had just read a very sophisticated version of the National Enquirer.