Reading Time: 2 minutes

My Gripe About a Book – Lacuna

I can’t believe I’m actually going to write about a book before I’m finished with it and before I do my official review, but this time it’s a must.

I am reading Lacuna by Barbara Kingsolver. She is one of my favorite writers, and I’ve read at least seven of her novels. So when I started this one, I was pretty confident I was in good hands.

I was looking forward to starting it. I’d heard it was good, and since I generally like everything she writes, I figured this would be another winner.

Of course, that confidence lasted about 50 pages.

Then I found myself staring at my Kindle thinking, “What the hell is this crap I’m reading?”

That’s usually not the reaction you want to have when reading one of your favorite authors.

At that point, I decided I needed outside help. So I went to Perplexity AI and started asking questions about the book, what I was experiencing, and whether perhaps I had completely misunderstood what Kingsolver was trying to accomplish.

Maybe it was me.

Maybe I was missing something.

Maybe I had suddenly forgotten how to read.

The response was actually very helpful—and a little shocking.

First, it told me my intuition was pretty much spot-on. Apparently, I wasn’t the only reader wondering what the hell was going on. A number of reviews described exactly what I was experiencing.

Then came the question that really got my attention:

“What page are you on?”

I replied, “Page 50 on a Kindle.”

Perplexity then gave me the bad news.

Yes, I was correct in my assessment.

Yes, other readers had experienced the same thing.

And yes, apparently this was going to continue.

For roughly another 100 to 150 pages.

According to the explanation, somewhere around pages 150–200, the book finally starts to take off as an actual novel and story rather than what currently feels like the literary equivalent of someone emptying the contents of their desk drawer onto the floor and telling me to make sense of it.

Wonderful.

So I’m supposed to read somewhere between 150 and 200 pages—roughly a third of the book—before I get to the part where the actual story decides to show up.

Of course, I’m going to do it.

I have a lot of faith in Barbara Kingsolver, and seven or more books I’ve enjoyed is enough of a track record for me to give her the benefit of the doubt.

But I have to admit, I’m baffled by this approach.

It is such a drastic departure from her other work that I’m struggling to understand why she chose to structure the book this way. I’m willing to believe there is a method to the madness.

Right now, however, I’m mostly experiencing the madness.

So here I am, somewhere around page 50, hanging on and hoping that the people who told me to keep going know what they’re talking about.

Because that last 400 pages better be off the charts.

Otherwise, my official review is not going to be pretty.

In fact, if things don’t improve dramatically, it may be less of a book review and more of a formal complaint.