If you want to say something, say it, he says. Don’t use poems to frill it up.
I think this quote might perfectly sum up my feelings for this book. And this coming from a woman who loves literary novels because purple prose is my jam. Notorious is the sort of book I imagine Kate Morton would write if she started taking herself waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too seriously: jarring jumps through time; unlikeable, unreliable narrators; prose occasionally so purple it obscures all meaning. The biggest mystery of this literary mystery is the mystery itself. I’m not joking. 130 pages in, all I knew was some people had died, there might be some art theft involved, and the desert is a great place for naval-gazing. So I threw in the towel and started skimming, which entirely defeats the purpose of a literary novel, but oh well. I cannot be bothered with cliché burnt-out CIA agents and drama-llama-ding-dongs shouting poetically at the sea in a storm. I got suckered by a gorgeous cover and I’m bitter. (Don’t worry, I’ll get over it.)