Terrible. Just terrible. I would ban this book if I could, and not because of the actual content. It’s because the writing is so simplistic, it upset any semblance of literary-ness (I’m so upset, I can’t think of actual words).

[Full disclosure: I was specifically looking for a light and quick read. I guess I got one, although I’ve read light reads that didn’t insult my intelligence like this.)

My main complaint is Dallas left nothing to the imagination. Anything that had a semblance of symbolism, metaphor, culture, or local flavor, she had to explain in 6th grade language. Sometimes she’d take an entire paragraph to explain how a quilt is like life – made up of different colors and patches and worked on by many hands, yada, yada. Sandra Dallas, I want to figure things out myself. I’m pretty smart and I’m capable of it. The symbolism and story itself is much more pleasant, enjoyable, and surprising when I can make my own discoveries. It’s like receiving a gigantic wrapped present and finding tiny diamond earrings inside.

Grating characteristic #2: The main character was so flat, I think she’d been run over several times by covered wagons and later pounded into a pancake. I think the only reason she existed was to tell a string of unamusing stories about townfolk past and present. I didn’t care about her; I couldn’t identify or sympathize with anything about her. And again, we’re not told much about her. All she does is quilt and tell stories. She tells about her past, but for some reason, I JUST DON’T CARE. Again, I think this is probably because Dallas just TELLS you – doesn’t SHOW you anything. Sandra, show – not tell. We’ll catch on, unless your audience is a cat.

Other than that, the other literary constructions were so amateurish. (The sour woman suddenly becomes compassionate when helping with an emergency birth! Not all stories have happy endings! Can the new girl find a friend in a lonely town? Maybe the husband who has a bad job will end up getting one offered out of the blue from someone who doesn’t know him. Hmmm, just maybe?) And this irritated me to no end: Dallas hints in the first chapter that there is some big looming secret that Hennie (main character) has to tie up before leaving Colorado for good (but we KNOOOOW that’s never going to happen because she loves it so much). So every chapter will be going right along in it’s lumbering way – not unlike a day-old calf just learning to walk – and all of a sudden, she’ll throw in a sentence like this. “They lived happily in their mountaintop home from then on. But Hennie had some unfinished business before she could expect the same.” And then left it at that. And who could have ever imagined that Dallas would string that along right to the last four pages? NOT ME.

It’s really a shame because I loved Tallgrass, one of Dallas’s earlier books. My next book better have some depth.