The main character is a weak and whiny woman. The story of Paris old is told through letters to her dead husband. Reading her letters was depressing. She lives well (at least two house servants) off her adoring husband's money but all she does is complain and act like a martyr. Characters like her suck the joy out of reading.

I understand a deep love for certain physical places, but not passivity and a death-pack. Instead of writing letters about all the wonderful memories the house lived through and leaving beautiful memories for her daugher and grandchildren, she continuously harped on the negative. Worst drivel I have read in a long time. How did this even get published?

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