Boy oh boy, I sure wonder if the attractive people in this story without any other competition end up together? I mean, it’s a complete mystery. Sarah is an author, and she’s described in terms vague enough to know that she’s beautiful, but ordinary enough to be relatable and intimidated by John’s model ex-wife. And John, why he’s so dashing and proper, he couldn’t possibly fall for the woman researching his family’s role in the sinking of the Lusitania.
Besides! He’s British! And she’s American! They’re practically different species! Americans drink coffee, but he drinks tea! The local barkeep is a publican, not a bartender! She calls trousers pants! He’s from the UK and she is from the US. How could it ever work, and how could the reader even think of the two in a relationship with ancillary characters reminding us how coarse Americans are every time they’re introduced? Madness!
It’s as crazy as the idea that John’s grandfather Robert could ever love a woman other than Caroline, the married woman he has an affair with on the Lusitania. They have a bond that’s predicated on her not getting enough attention from her husband, and a history of meeting at parties. He couldn’t possibly love another when the bland beautiful Caroline exists. Yep, that’s as inconceivable as the idea that the dashing conwoman he confides in regarding his star crossed love could ever be anything more to him than a shoulder to cry on despite her having more personality than any other character in the book and Robert’s grandmother going conspicuously unnamed in the modern book sections.
I just couldn’t figure out what was going to happen next – it was all as surprising as what happens to the Lusitania itself! Did you know that the ship sinks? All twenty pages devoted to the ship sinking really hit the history hard, and bore absolutely no resemblance to the James Cameron movie Titanic.
Yep, this is one that keeps you guessing, like an American figuring out British social norms.