The Heights by Peter Hedges
My rating: 3 of 5 stars
I normally enjoy Hedges's work. And I was really drawn into this book, despite the many things within it that didn't thrill me. But the last third was a steady disappointment. And the ending pissed me the fuck off. I still like you, Mr. Hedges, but I need the lit equivalent of Pepto Bismol now.
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ps. That equivalent will probably be either a Raymond Chandler or a Megan Abbott novel. FYI.