And so, at the last bookgroup, she lent her copy to me. I put it on my TBR pile, and figured I’d get around to it. But when she asked me on Sunday what I thought of it, I figured I’d better get around to it sooner than later.

So, yesterday, after I finished Elijah of Buxton, I started this one. And last night, halfway through the book, I realized that it really wasn’t all that great, that I really wasn’t all that interested, and I had much better things waiting for me on my TBR pile.

It’s not that it’s a bad book; some parts I read were amusing (especially when Elizabeth brings up having read Emma or Sense and Sensibility). It’s letters from Elizabeth to various people — Aunt Gardiner, Jane, Charlotte, Georgiana and other assorted people — detailing the events of her life from 1814 through 1819. But, you know, while I’m a fan, I’m not that much of a fan. I liked the letters from the first year, when they were exclusively to Jane and Elizabeth was trying to figure out the whole Mistress of Pemberly thing. I really don’t care how many kids Elizabeth and Jane had, whether they were girls or boys, or what rennovations were done to Pemberly, or how despicable and uncooth Lydia has become, or whatever happens in the last half of the book. The book’s just not worth my time.

On to bigger and better things.