1928 Amsterdam. The first Olympics at which female athletes are permitted to compete in track and field events.That sentence right there says I should have loved this book. And that bit was interesting. I loved reading about the race, the hoopla after, about how it was determined the race was too hard for women merely because (just like some of the men) the lady winner falls to the ground when it's over. She's tired, overwhelmed with emotions...whatever. People read things into it.
Sadly, the Olympic race takes a mere two pages. The aftermath a few more pages. Training? Barely mentioned. We know what she wore, that she rain around a track with a lady named Glad for two years, by a factory. We know chocolate people sponsored it. And frankly, that's it.
This book isn't so much about a woman running in the Olympics but a dysfunctional family. About Edith, Olive, George, Robbies dying, a dad obsessed with woodwork, a mother midwife, and dead siblings seen through walls. It's weird and uninteresting. I got tired of it. I really didn't care about this heroine's childhood on a farm in Canada, about Edith, or graveyards full of little Smarts.
I was so bored I abandoned this one at 54%. The Olympics were over.
The modern bits were not the least appealing either, as this ridiculous girl old-people-naps Ms. Smart from a nursing home. Lots of rambling and uninteresting memories as they get stuck in the mud and all.
Had this been strictly about women running, the relationships they form as they run together, compete together, training for the Olympics, and the Olympics themselves, I'd have stuck with it and most likely loved it 'cause there's nothing wrong with the writing itself, but it digressed too often into boring family life and lost me.
All I've got are these legs, trained for speed, this mind, trained to conquer a circle of track.
I received a digital ARC of this via Edelweiss.
I would have jumped at this from the intro also. Thanks for the honest review!
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