I believe part of the reason this book irked me was that I had recently completed reading Alice Sebold's Lucky, which offered a brutally honest and heartrending account of a rape and its far-reaching consequences. In contrast, in this book, the rape is merely treated as a sensationalistic plot device. I've always been drawn to Picoult's works because they tackle difficult and intricate issues. But in this case, the story just seemed preposterous.
I do concede that the issue of branding sexual offenders for life is indeed a complex one, with both sides presenting compelling arguments. Nevertheless, this important issue seemed to be overshadowed by the highly improbable scenario of one seemingly angelic man being wrongly accused not just once, but twice, of raping teenage girls. And what on earth was the deal with all that Wiccan stuff? Additionally, the so-called grand plot twist at the end was blatantly obvious to me from approximately a third of the way through the book. Oh dear.