Title: Historical Pop for the TV era
Product review: Follet is a competent storyteller but he is betrayed by his compulsive pandering to the lowest-common denominator. This has the feel, the texture, the depth and the authenticity of those old 70's TV mini-series, full of romance, betrayal and as predictable as the four seasons. It has some merit, as pop pulp, coarsely written and very much aimed at the middle of the bell curve, but it is disturbing seeing so many people labelling it as "the best book ever". What books are this people reading? I don't mean to be disrespectful, and I am sure their devotion is sincere. What's more, I think that Follet is due some credit for telling a story that uses all the possible archetypes in fiction and manages to pull through a ton of pages, but... Even for popular fiction, this is simple-minded, digested and very much low-aiming stuff. It is puzzling to me that so many readers find this "the book of their lives". It makes me wonder about our lives, what we read and what we aspire to.
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