The oddest books seem to make the Booker Shortlist lately. Snowdrops by A.D. Miller is no exception. It is a lightweight 'thriller' but with heavy weight reviews " a chilling first novel about the slide from relative innocence into amorality." "a nuanced character study".
It's the classic tale of a self-deluding fairly innocent man being duped by Russian girls. A British banker who is living in Moscow slowly gets entangled with two very lovely Russian girls who are obviously scheming. The tension I suppose is in the con---you're not sure what they're up to but you know it's something. The conceit of the story is that it is supposedly written later when this man is back in London and as a way of confessing his past to his future wife. That premise is unnecessary and weakens the whole book. What idiot would tell this whole sorry story to his future wife?
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