Claudia Silver may be in her twenties, but she hasnít left her teen years firmly behind. She has about as much sense as a love-struck fifteen-year-old left on the subway overnight and who might be prone to hallucinations on more than a few occasions. But I loved her anyway. Thatís fucked up, right? Yeah, I thought so, too.
But like all teenage fantasies it wasnít a perfect match, nor was it even a near perfect one. In fact, I abhorred her and loved her in nearly equal parts. There were occasions where I wanted to give her a hug, and there were plenty of occasions where I wanted to slap my forehead, scream, and run in the opposite direction. By the end, I might have had a nice semi-permanent red spot along with a decent amount of brain damage, and possibly finished my cardio for the entire month of March.
So what gives? I might have reached a new level of softness around my middle, or I might have just discovered a hidden gem in the midst of a woodpile before the entire stack of debris was doused in kerosene and set ablaze. Iím still processing and evaluating all the inputs, but Iíll go with the hidden gem option for two hundred Alex.
I was more than a little entertained, even if I wasnít exactly rescued. CLAUDIA SILVER TO THE RESCUE reminded me of a soap opera, so it wasnít all that surprising when this little tidbit was actually discussed in a bit of depth in the novel, and it reminded me on more than one occasion of how lucky I am with my family and my relationships and my job situation, because I really donít endeavor to find out how much worse it could get for myself, but I have no problem reading about somebody elseís problems over the course of 259 pages or so.