Reviews of this type are the most difficult for me. I want to like every book I start. Sometimes, it’s just not possible. This is one of those times. The Protagonist takes a year off from his life to visit Prague. He tells his story using his and his mother’s diary. The only way to tell who is telling the story is by the way they date the entries. She uses western-style, he European. Many times, I had to return to the beginning of an entry to verify who was telling the story.
I read about twenty-five percent of the book. I kept waiting for something to happen and, for me, it never did. The author did an adequate job of describing Prague, its weather, and how much the Protagonist liked the food. He didn’t evoke empathy for him. Some books, I can’t put down. This one does not scream “Read Me Now.” At this point, I quit reading it. That’s the justification for the one star.