Eye for an Eye

Anthony Trollope had ten children and was a chief postmaster, and always wrote strictly between five and eight in the morning. I can’t say, after reading this, that he shouldn’t have stayed in bed instead. This is a well-written tale about an aristocrat who knocks up a young woman and refuses to marry her, leading to tragic consequences. Let’s face it – Thomas Hardy did it a whole lot better. The Irish-isms are cringe-worthy, and both the characters and writing are commonplace. Of course, this is probably not one of his better-known works – he wrote a whole series about troubles in the Anglican church – but that doesn’t really entice me to read it. Funny how some books last, and others don’t. I’m sure his stuff is well-written, but at the end of the day it’s boring, and there are too many interesting books to read to waste my time with boring.