I wanted to like this book more than I did. It was beautiful in concept, containing a genius (real-life) scientist, time-travel, romance, and espionage, but somehow I had trouble staying interested. The narrative jumped around a lot and was mostly written in present tense, which I found oddly off-putting. The writing was swirly and ambiguous, filled with ambitious metaphors. But still, I’m not sure why I wasn’t captivated by this book and the beautiful writing. The author did an excellent job of bringing 1940’s NYC to life, but somehow it was all still too dreamy and hard to pin down at times. I found myself skimming paragraphs just to finish the story and find out what happens at the end. Maybe I’m getting too used to reading children’s novels?
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