4.5 stars

"I actually thought I could beat God, but there was never a woman born who could beat God -- he's a man."

Finally got around to reading this classic. What a great escape!

Aviso: la reseña tiene spoilers pero los oculté como corresponde.

“Bienvenidos al culebrón de la tarde o de la programación nocturna”, debería decir la portada en algún lugar visible. Estaba esperando que The Thorn Birds (uso el nombre en inglés porque es más corto y más cómodo) fuera una novela que se adaptó a serie de televisión, no un libro que ya estaba estructurado para que les fuera fácil trasladarla. Encontré unos cuantos problemas más que no tienen relación con lo formal, sino con la temática en sí. Sorpresivamente, el hecho de que esto se trate del amor entre un sacerdote y una mujer es liviano. Muy liviano. Lo que me molestó y me impide ponerle más calificación es la aparición/ desaparición súbita de personajes que, por arte de magia, fuerzan los giros de la novela para que todo digamos “ahhh” en algún momento. Y, por cierto, este libro destila sexismo. No encontré nada de sublime en esta historia, pero está escrita decentemente a pesar de que repita ciertas cosas una y otra vez. La reseña será larga por un motivo personal: siento que tengo que argumentar más en los libros que no me agradaron.

Esto se trata de Meggie Cleary, la única hija mujer en una familia de Nueva Zelanda que la pasa mal económicamente y que de repente se ve beneficiada por la “generosidad” de la hermana del patriarca del grupo, Paddy. Para gozar de esa posición más holgada, tendrán que mudarse a Australia y trabajar para esta mujer (llamada Mary Carson) haciendo producir la estancia conocida como Drogheda. A Mary Carson la visita con frecuencia el joven cura Ralph de Bricassart, irlandés y con aspiraciones a subir escalones en la Iglesia. Cuando este hombre se cruza con la pequeña e ingenua Meggie, de tan sólo diez años, queda flechado. Queda tan herido por Cupido, que no puede alejarse de ella.

Mary Carson se transformará en la villana de telenovela (se siente atraída por el cura), pasarán los años y se desencadenará la saga familiar. Los Cleary se van a consolidar como una poderosa familia de granjeros del lugar, siempre sostenida con el trabajo duro de Paddy y de sus hijos varones, además de la administración de Fee, la madre de estos. Meggie tiene su rol, pero no se lo describe tanto. Lo que interesa en el libro es con quién se casará, no si monta a caballo o se encarga de un rebaño. Si bien hay largas descripciones de las tareas del campo y de la flora y la fauna de Australia (algo que se agradece, porque una nunca está lo suficientemente informada sobre esto), cuando la narración se enfoca en Meggie pierde la inmensidad y se repliega en su amor prohibido.

La primera sensación que tuve cuando empecé a leer The Thorn Birds es que pide una adaptación a serie o película por sí solo, porque delinea elementos típicos que son garantía de éxito. Una familia que la pasa mal, dos religiones enfrentadas, una protagonista que va a un colegio religioso y sufre los castigos de las monjas, la vieja rica que maneja los hilos como si todos fueran sus títeres. Eso vende (de hecho, vendió, porque el libro fue best seller y la serie, récord en audiencia). Y, por supuesto, no puedo olvidar el amor creciente entre un sacerdote y una mujer, tema tabú y cliché que sigue vigente. Si bien no me escandalizó por cuestiones que no vienen al caso, tampoco me pareció la mejor historia de amor del mundo. Lo que sucede es que se vuelve muy melodramática (corrijo: todo es melodramático en este libro) y atrae. Ya en la mitad del libro, mi paciencia empezó a mermar un poco: se revelaban secretos (predecibles) a los golpes, sucedían cosas trágicas, el cura entraba por una puerta hecho un torbellino gritando el nombre de su amada  para después tener una escena casi de alto voltaje con ella el mismo día en que perdió a su padre y a uno de sus hermanos, mostrando así el mal gusto de algunas escenas. Empezaba a resultarme ridículo. Sigue pasando el tiempo, las cosas parecen calmarse y después se incorporan personajes nuevos que agitan la trama otra vez. Entonces llega una nueva oleada de sandeces, en donde hay personas que no se dan cuenta de X cosa aunque la tengan frente a las narices. Más o menos esta es la mecánica con la que se separan los capítulos del libro.

En cuanto al sexismo que mencioné (y aquí viene el párrafo en donde me pongo densa y pueden saltearse si les causa alergia), no pude parar de poner los ojos en blanco durante la lectura. Hay contradicciones muy tirantes y que, lejos de intentar resolverse, parecen agrandarse más. Un personaje femenino (con llamarla Anne está bien, no voy a revelar qué hace ni nada por el estilo) se encarga de ser la voz denunciante del género. Saca a relucir sin vergüenza y con mucha rabia la cantidad de mujeres abandonadas por los maridos en Australia. Se lo dice a un hombre, Luke, cuya personalidad es desagradable hasta los huesos y reúne todas las facetas odiosas para Anne. Ahora, mientras ella no deja de resaltar que ese sujeto debería respetar más a las mujeres, hay personajes (y la protagonista es una de ellos) que no dejan de repetir que los hijos varones son una bendición (porque perpetúan el apellido y pueden hacer el “trabajo duro”) y que las hijas suelen ser unas extrañas en la familia. Meggie hasta llega a presuponer quién es apto para engendrar hijos varones: sólo pueden hacerlo los hombres perfectos… y los defectuosos engendran mujeres. En este punto de The Thorn Birds tuve que tomar las riendas de mi paciencia y tratar de no revolear el libro, que además era prestado. Porque todo tiene un límite: el narrador en tercera persona se desvive por dejar en claro que Meggie es muy inteligente y despierta para que luego tire todo por la borda con comentarios de esta clase. Tal vez se quiera justificar por la desinformación que sufre con respecto a la actividad sexual por culpa de sus conservadores padres (depende del cristal con el que se mire…),  cosa que hace que en su primera vez sea prácticamente violada por su “esposo”. Se me revuelve el estómago y no puedo creer que exista gente que haya disfrutado de la relación entre esos dos. Y lo horrible es que, tiempo después, la hija de Meggie y de Luke, Justine, se atreve a hacer chistes deleznables sobre violaciones y acoso callejero.  Cuando dije que había cosas de mal gusto, no mentía. Así que no entendí nada. No supe por qué se decía tanto “los hombres esto, las mujeres aquello”, dejando a todos encerrados en los estereotipos de siempre, si al final la balanza seguiría inclinándose para el mismo lado. Me alegra que no se idealicen asuntos como la maternidad y la sexualidad, ya que encuentro que en varias novelas suelen ser lo más hermoso y deseable del universo mientras se intuye que en la vida real no todos tienen las mismas experiencias. Pero el reclamo de Anne se difumina, se evapora en el aire. El valor del hijo varón se sostiene hasta la última página. Quiero que conste que no estoy diciendo que no lo tengan (todos los hijos deberían ser amados por igual y sin importar el género, ¿no?): me refiero a la preferencia, a la creencia de que si la familia está compuesta por mujeres, ninguna será capaz de cambiar la bombilla de luz. Espero estar siendo clara. Lo curioso es que este libro abarca el período 1915- 1969 y no se percibe ninguna evolución en cuanto a ese pensamiento.

Después de mi descargo con respecto al tema anterior, intentaré salvar el libro con lo que sí me gustó. Ya mencioné las descripciones de Australia, así que me vuelco a la escritura, construcción de personajes y los hechos históricos. El libro está bien escrito. No es ninguna maravilla, no es una joya de la literatura universal, pero se defiende. La narración y su estilo se adaptan al personaje central de la perspectiva que se está dando y eso produce que el lector pueda llegar a conocer la conciencia del mismo. Los personajes se desarrollan y no permanecen estáticos, ni siquiera cuando interactúan entre ellos. Tiene el defecto de evidenciar que algunos están allí como un engranaje y, por ende, desaparecen al cumplir su función. Otros vuelven rescatados del olvido, sin razón aparente.  Me estoy refiriendo a Frank.  Las mujeres son las más beneficiadas en cuanto a evolución de personalidad, pero los hombres no se quedan atrás: por momentos Paddy, Ralph y otro cuyo nombre no quiero dar son loables. Sin embargo, esto también significa que hay varios que están desaprovechados, como los hermanos de Meggie. Sobre los hechos históricos, me gustó cómo las secciones del libro están concentradas en también en lo que pasaba fuera de Drogheda. Sequías, guerras mundiales, revoluciones, todo muestra que Australia no podía estar tan aislada del mundo como parecía, mucho menos siendo una colonia. También hay cosas muy interesantes sobre esto y lo jugoso se halla en las críticas de los australianos hacia el Imperio Británico.

No sé si me queda algo en el tintero, pero supongo que ya fue suficiente. The Thorn Birds es una novela romántica/ saga familiar que ya tenía los condimentos para que cobrara vida en alguna pantalla. Me olvidaba: también tiene el número necesario de escenas “eróticas” como para atraer la atención de determinado público, cosa que a la autora le salió bien, a fin de cuentas. Por eso la edición en español fue censurada y esta que marqué es la única, al parecer, que le devolvió los párrafos y las palabras que faltaban.  A mí no me causaron nada en absoluto, salvo la escena que ya señalé, pero al estar involucrado un sacerdote (y al tener tantas manifestaciones de apoyo hacia el celibato y cuestiones como “mujeres versus Iglesia”, que recaen en el discurso pseudofeminista del libro y se pierde un poco) era esperable que las quitaran en la década del ‘70.  Hubiera deseado que las setecientas páginas que leí se llevaran las cinco estrellas. Había pensado en tres, ya que pude rescatar el marco histórico, pero estaba siendo demasiado generosa. Esto no me pareció más que una ligera historia de amor prohibido contada a medias, en donde hay capítulos vacíos y aburridos que dan paso a una condensación de tragedias en los que siguen. Y no puedo calificar bien a un libro que me incomodó durante tantos días.


Reseña en Clásico Desorden

It took 200 pages of this book for me to confirm that the novel's 'hero' is a pedophile, and that his love interest is the young child that he meets as a girl and spends years grooming in the presence of her family. A horrible book.

A master at crafting a story. Never watched the series but wanted to read it myself and I wasn’t disappointed. The love and sacrifice is so poignant. How self centered a priest could be. How she plops death right into the story. Such a frustrating and difficult daughter but don’t we all have someone similar in our own families? Wonderful descriptive passages of the Outback before it was famous.

I’m a child of the eighties, so my point of reference is the now-dated miniseries that ran for a number of weeks when I was ten years old. I like long books, particularly when it’s historical fiction, so at nearly 700 pages and a timeframe that spans most of the 20th Century, I put this on my queue a long time ago. Cheapskate that I am, I waited until the audiobook came available through the library.

It’s accurately billed as a family saga: the Clearys move from New Zealand to a “station” in the Australian Outback just after WWI. They get the caretaker job, and it’s no small thing: Drogheda is over 100,000 square miles of mostly desert…and sheep. They’re working-class people, but they’ve fallen into wealth, of sorts, since it’s Paddy Cleary’s sister that owns the place…at first.



Though there’s more than one storyline, the main thread is the love affair between Meggie and Fr. Ralph de Bricassart. Yes, I said it: FATHER de Bricassart. I’ll take a moment to let any of you staunch Catholics walk away.

*Jeopardy theme plays*

Meggie’s just a ten-year-old kid when they meet, but Ralph is smitten. Don’t worry, nothing happens until she’s in her late teens. Still creepy, but let’s not start banning books, OK? Instead, lean into this as a “forbidden romance,” maybe even the most risqué I’ve ever read. Oh, there’s spice involved, all right…whew! You’ll like that middle chapter if this is your thing. It’s romantic and tasteful, even if it makes the religious sort cringe. In fact, I’d say that romance is the fire that keeps this story going.

It's a travel guide to the Outback: kangas, snakes, and wild boars, oh my! First a drought, then a deluge, then something called a “dry storm” where lightning hits and ignites stuff, because…Australia. And, of course, a massive freaking inferno. Rough place to live; I’ll never complain about Brooklyn ever again. But just like the romance, it was fascinating.

The Clearys are my kind of people: working class, smart, tough. Not an ounce of pretense among them. Great values, and down-home mannerisms. They were born, it seems, to tend the land, and I enjoyed living their history.

I did think the drama slows a bit once we get to Dane and Justine, Meggie’s kids. Not sure what it was: one was annoying, and the other had secrets that I thought should’ve been revealed to him. Not because he should learn them, only that it would’ve added a ton of turmoil to a book that goes through the late-stage motions. I wanted more Ralph-Meggie drama, and instead I got kid drama, which didn’t interest me as much.

Oh, in case you’re wondering, I’ll skip seeing the miniseries, thank you very much. It’ll seem dated and meh, so I’ll stick with the wondrous images Colleen McCullough gave me.

I listened to about 30% of this as an audiobook, and the rest on a weekend when I was recovering from a stomach bug. It’s a grand adventure through a different place and time, well worth the long effort.

Catching up…

“There's a story... a legend, about a bird that sings just once in its life. From the moment it leaves its nest, it searches for a thorn tree... and never rests until it's found one. And then it sings... more sweetly than any other creature on the face of the earth. And singing, it impales itself on the longest, sharpest thorn. But, as it dies, it rises above its own agony, to out-sing the lark and the nightingale. The thorn bird pays its life for just one song, but the whole world stills to listen, and God in his heaven smiles.”

I read this one so many years ago, that when a donation came to my Little Free Library Shed, I couldn’t help but re-visit it. Would I have the same feelings about the book as I did all those years ago?

I also remember seeing the original television series of the same name when it came out in the early 1980’s. (I know I am dating myself.) And, of course it was easy for them to romanticize the book’s theme of the forbidden love story between a girl-turned-woman, Meggie, and the older priest, Ralph – especially when they looked like the young Richard Chamberlain and the gorgeous Rachel Ward.

And, regardless of how we felt about this theme, there were still other issues that came out that readers and/or viewers could relate to…commitment and obligation as it related to love, family and religion. Imagine the angst that Ralph had between his commitment to God and his love for Meggie? Or, Meggie’s commitment to Ralph despite her marriage to another, which seemed based more in obligation than love.

I remember the feelings that lingered with me about this forbidden love and wondered whether it was realistic or not, or just based on the passion of desire – of what one perceives they can’t have, except in secret.

Certainly, McCullough is challenging readers. Inviting them in with her epic scope and questionable possibilities – the gray areas and complexities found in human relationships. Which makes this a great discussion book selection.

Awesome book! Unputdownable!!

As a 13-year-old, I remember my mom finding this book in our small neighborhood library & getting all excited about having found this book! When I came across this book after so many years, I wanted to read it too. But I was sceptical if I would find it interesting...

Boy, am I glad I decided to give it a try! It's now one of my all-time-fave books ever! The preface by Maeve Binchy (another fave Irish author) sets the stage & context for the book.

The book is set in the Australian outback in the mid-18th century & is centered around an Irish family on a sheep farm. I will say no more. Just pick up the book & read. You won't regret it! Happy reading!

In a down reading year, an epic family saga was just what I needed to push away the reading doldrums. Normally, a five star read would merit a long review depicting characters, place, time, and the author's luscious prose. The Thorn Birds had all of this and was hauntingly beautiful. Yet, despite the story of the Cleary family and their parish priest being a much needed tonic for me, I am omitting my long review for now. That is because The Thorn Birds is our quarterly long read in the group Retro Chapter Chicks here on goodreads. My fellow chicks are reading this book over the course of three months and I do not want to inadvertently give anything away here. The story of Meggie and Ralph was so captivating; however, that I read their saga in three days rather than months. It was that good, and the bonus is that I have still have three months of group discussions to immerse myself in their story. The Thorn Birds has catapulted itself to my all time favorite shelf and will be a saga that I sense myself revisiting more than once.

*5 star read*

n  There is a legend about a bird which sings just once in its life, more sweetly than any other creature on the face of the earth. From the moment it leaves the nest it searches for a thorn tree, and does not rest until it has found one. Then, singing among the savage branches, it impales itself upon the longest, sharpest spine. And, dying, it rises above its own agony to outcarol the lark and the nightingale. One superlative song, existence the price. But the whole world stills to listen, and God in His heaven smiles. For the best is only bought at the cost of great pain…Or so says the legend.n

The Thorn Birds is a book I’d heard of for most of my life, but for whatever reason, I’d never gotten around to, despite it being on my TBR for years. Reflecting back on my childhood, I vagely recall hearing of the miniseries, which ABC had apparently reaired sometime in the late 1980’s or early 90’s. That’s all it was, through—a vague recollection most likely associated with seeing the network’s perpetual advertisement, and cemented in an irritated comment made by my stepmother. I’ve no idea why that specific memory resonated, but it did. Perhaps my subconscious was at work, even then, preparing my impressionable mind for the literary lifestyle it knew would-or at least could—follow.

That memory, like many others, was soon buried, only to resurface now and again. I believe that eventually led me to click on the Goodreads provided synopsis, purely out of curiosity. I added it immediately.

I quickly realized that Colleen McCullough's daunting 1977 novel had a lot going for it. Much, much more than I could’ve imagined. The historical tale centered around the Cleary’s and their life-altering move from New Zealand to the fictional sheep station called Drogheda. In her element, the lifelong Australian native delivered the everyday family dynamic masterfully, as though she’d written about actual individuals after interviewing and researching their lives extensively. That’s the impression I got, and it’s an obstinate one. The unique culture and geography of the land, as well as its precarious weather patterns, were depicted with precision.

A common concept is that The Thorn Birds is a romance novel. That proved to be a vast misconception. Was it a factor? Yes, but only in the sense that love was a natural part of life, and the importance of learning from one’s past mistakes and experiences. With love, one could thrive. Not surprisingly, amor was a recurring theme—unrequited; genuine and long lasting; a love tainted with obligation. All three were illuminated.

The author didn’t stop there, though. Suffering in a myriad of ways sprouted again and again: in the throws of human relations. In emotion, mental, psychological, and physical anguish. Suffering in the Catholic religion, which honed in on two concurrent themes. By exploring the richness of said themes, McCullough posed some profound notions about humanity. What did it actually mean to be human? What did that entail? How did one achieve those ends?

Meggie’s husband, Luke O’Neil, was in direct opposition to the term humane. His actions, and more specifically his INactions, were physically repulsive. He oppressed her. Oppression was also explored, on a much larger scale, in the center section, where brothers Jims and Patsy Cleary enlisted in the military, and fought in World II. They experienced first-hand action, and unsurprisingly, their lives were forever changed, as war is wont to do. Oppression was a constant, palpable antagonist.

For me, one of the most interesting themes was obligation. It popped up frequently, revolving around interpersonal relationships. One could agrue that Father Ralph de Bricassart felt a sense of obligation toward God. Taking it another step further, the same could be said about Feona’s grandson, Dane O’Neil.

n  The heart of the mattern

In the opening scene, McCullough introduced the reader to Meghann (“Meggie”) Cleary, the novel’s primary protagonist, in a sequence of events which set the tone in terms of historical authenticity, setting, and most poigantly, in young Meggie’s character. Her naivette was on full display as her four year old self yearned desperately for a beautiful doll whom she’d named Agnes, and in the cruelty of her older brothers, Hughie and Jack, and finally, in the heroism of Frank. He was, in many ways, the family scapegoat. To everyone except his doting mother, Fiona, and youngest sibling, Meggie. Alongside her aloof mother, they were the only females in a large family of men; in a testosterone dominated world.

A generation later, Justine O’Neil emerged--vibrant, elusive, charismatic and strange—the polar opposite of her mother. Justine represented that era’s black sheep, almost as if to fill the void left by her uncle, Frank. However, she unknowingly took his legacy and made it her own. Where he was doing what was right and that which came naturally to him, Justine was blatantly, even disrespectfully at times, rebellious. Though she did so in ways that never betrayed her character; she was always true. Essentially, she didn’t choose rebelliousness simply to be a rebel. She wasn’t attention-seeking. For those reasons (amongst others,) she was my most beloved character. I admired her fierce independence and her unwillingness to conform. And because she refused to let her opinions remain silent. She was also bizarre, and I loved that, too. I saw a lot of myself in her.

n  ”I doubt myself, Rain. I always have. I probably always will.”n

The last forty pages filled me with trepidation. So much, in fact, that I was reluctant to rush through to the end. I’m a procrastinator by nature, but that was perhaps the only time I’d set any book aside for longer than a month, when I was that close to finishing it. I think it was more than fear, though. Simply put, as cliché as the term is, I didn’t want it to end. Truly, I didn’t. There’s no other novel to compare to The Thorn Birds, nor another writer quite like Colleen McCullough. There’s not another fictional family like the Cleary’s or, from Fiona’s Irish roots, the Armstrong’s.

n  

n    Mid-April was her favorite time, the period of daffoldils and azaleas and flowering trees. There was one spot she thought she could lay some claim to being one of the world’s loveliest sights on a small, intimate scale, so she down on the damp ground, an audience of one, to drink it in. As far as the eyes could see stretched a sheet of daffodils; in mid-distance the nodding yellow horde of bells flowed around a great flowering almond, its branches so heavy with white blooms they dipped downward in arching falls as perfect and still as a Japanese painting. Peace. It was so hard to come by.n  

n

As fleshed out as most of the characters were, McCullough could’ve done more with them. Instead of the ill-treatment of Patsy and Jims (who suffered grievous injuries in the war,) she could’ve finished their stories, complete with the highs and lows of everyday life. Or she could’ve refrained from making Frank’s departure permanent. She also really should have developed Padraic “Paddy” Cleary’s eldest sister, Mary Carson, more extensively because there was genuine mystery surrounding her (though she wasn’t cardboard flat,) especially in light of her unique perceptions and wisdom. There were a few other characters with unfinished stories, but you get the gist, don’t you?

I’m not saying that every character should be wrapped up nicely, but there’s a difference in achieving that, and practically dropping them, with an infrequent, obligatory mention. A big difference, indeed.

n  n    …Let the cycle renew itself with unknown people. I did it all to myself, I have no one else to blame. And I cannot regret one single moment of it.
The bird was the thorn in its breast, it follows an immutable law; it is by it knows not what to impale itself, and die singing. At the very instant the thorn enters there is no awareness in it of the dying to come; it simply sings and sings until there is not the life left to utter another note. But we, when we put the thorns in our breasts, we know. We understand. And still we do it. Still we do it. n  n

I feel rather mature and grown up after finishing this book - I'm trying to figure out why because I am not young!?!?! Maybe it feels like I accomplished something. I read "a classic". Or it may have something to do with being 8 years old and seeing images flickering by on the TV screen while my mom watched...maybe listening to my Mom talk about the mini series with her friends. In my mind this book is an "old book" - one of those novels that is big and long and old!! But I have wanted to read it for so many years. I am so glad I got around to it!!

I listened to the audio and it was a fantastic narration! 22 hours long, seems daunting, but I enjoyed every word!!! This is a saga - really it's very akin to a prime time soap opera like Dallas or Knots Landing. Or maybe that is just me picturing my Mother again?!?!

So thankful to have taken the plunge and read this. I am not usually one to easily read a book that spans multiple generations, characters, and interwoven stories. I tell myself I don't have the patience - but that's not really it. I am patient for any fantastic book - and this one was!! The author had a beautiful way of telling stories, showing characters, and putting you right in the setting - I loved it!! It was the perfect blend of family, farm, real life, fears, betrayal, riches, honor and love. I really need to go back and pick some more of these oldies!!!

I LOVED this book, and until I read the last paragraph I couldn't figure out WHY! What was so utterly unexpected for me is that the reason I love this book is precisely the exact reason I would have hated just yesterday it seems?!!? If that makes ANY sense. I almost feel like I have a different outlook on life than I did one day ago...much less one year ago...but I didn't realize it until THIS book.
This book is an impressive tale with all of life's elements present...in fact, it is a tale ABOUT life, which in turn is a tale about every one of us. It is about men, women, home, travel, love, loss, happiness, sadness, passion, apathy, and everything in between. This is truly the best love story I have ever read, in more ways than one.

Maravillosa!!! y creo que me quedo corta la verdad, una muy pero muy buena novela. A pesar de su longitud no se hace larga. Hace muchos años vi la pelicula (super prohibida en su tiempo) pero la vdd el libro le supera con creces. La ambientación fabulosa que pareciera que tú también estás ahí en los parajes de la época de Australia. Los personajes increíbles, super bien perfilados... sientes los miedos, las alegrías, sus dudas, lo que odian y aman de una manera que te deja llena, satisfecha.

Uno de mis personajes favoritos fue Frank , la "forma" en que se descubre su paradero años después fue muy triste. La noticia del "empeoramiento de su psicosis"( por llamarlo de alguna manera) viene sin antecedentes. El amor por su madre, Fee, y su única hermana Meggie me recordó lo que está bien en la vida; sin embargo, tanta tragedia, sin paz El padre de Frank, Paddy, lo que vivió mientras crecía, fue triste... simplemente triste!

La relación "tormentosa" entre Meggie y Ralph uff de esa hay mucha tela de donde cortar y discutir, pero llevaría mucho desglose y esto se haría inmenso jajaja

Dane, me encantó su personaje y fue una pena que sucediera lo que le pasó
Justine, irreverente, con un carácter bastante fuerte, me gustaba mucho la relación que tenía con su hermano.

Podría seguir y seguir… Está la novela llena de drama, temas tabú, amor prohibido, angustia, secretos, amor, familia, matrimonio, enfermedad, muerte, lealtad, dinero, religión, sexo... sencillamente esta maravillosamente escrito.