My rating: 3 of 5 stars
I have a feeling I was supposed to like this book more than I did, but why? Why did I hear that it was so wonderful? A lot of it seemed forced, contrived--it just didn't sing to me. Is it because New Yorkers have to love a novel that is about (however obliquely) September 11th? I thought I was going to love it, but it didn't take long for me to realize I didn't. I kept trying, though. Of course I love the story of Philippe Petit, but this book added little to my appreciation of that story. Several of the characters were drawn too strongly against type, as if to prove some point--an ascetic Irishman, a fat African-American woman who lives in the projects, but is college-educated, does not go to church, and loves opera. I appreciate the effort that went into the writing, and there are some nice moments, but it never came together for me.
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