If you don't fall in love with Ingrid, maybe YOU are neurotic.
I don't know who wrote this book description, but I wish to lodge a vigorous protest against the use of the word "neurotic" to describe the heroine - Ingrid Winter. She's flaky, a raging hypochondriac, lacks a backbone, and has seen WAY too many sci-fi movies, but she's not neurotic. She is, however, surrounded by neurotics. Aren't we all?
This is one of those books where you start out wondering why the wife doesn't kill her humorless, over-bearing husband. Then you switch to wondering why the husband doesn't kill his spacey, irresponsible wife. Then you realize that marriage to each other beats a relationship with anyone else they know. It appears that Norway has a preponderance of both good-looking blondes and crazy people.
It helps that Ingrid is on the faculty at a local university. Sadly, higher education attracts some real nutters. Ingrid's work-enemy Ingvill is the poster-girl for Raging Neurotics. The thoroughly demented Ingvill has the worst case of Borderline Personality Syndrome I've seen in a long time. Typically, she's cordially hated by her colleagues, but tolerated since she's only slightly loonier than they are. We ALL know an Ingvill and you can consider yourself lucky if you're not related to one.
Being a parent of three young children exposes our heroine to even more lunacy. When did parenting cease to be a normal, everyday activity and become a competitive sport? Poor Ingrid is determined to be a great Mom, but her confidence is constantly undermined by the frenetic parents around her, not to mention the teachers who seek their revenge against unreasonable parents by upping the ante at every opportunity. Does your child's school/sports/recreational schedule leave you only five hours to sleep at night? Too much! Better add another activity or your poor darling will be short-changed and YOU will be a LOUSY PARENT.
As if her fellow Norwegians aren't giving her enough hell, Ingrid is coerced into making a trip to St. Petersburg, Russia to negotiate one of those international cooperation deals so trendy with universities now. Russia is even colder than Norway and the WIFI is iffy and the food's bad and they're surrounded by a shifting cast of menacing people. KGB or nervous academics clawing to stay afloat in their profession? Which is more dangerous?
The humor in this book is delightful. I lost count of how many times I laughed out loud. This author has a great talent for describing appearances and how they relate to her characters' personalities. Beauty may be only skin deep, but let's face it, you can frequently judge a book by its cover.
Of course, there are cultural differences. In lamenting her slide into semi-grungy motherhood, Ingrid admits that she hasn't shaved her legs or armpits in a month. Mothers everywhere can relate to the fact that a Mom doesn't have time to lavish on her looks. However, an American mother might neglect her family, friends, health, job or give up paying bills or eating. But she ALWAYS shaves.
I thought it was odd that Ingrid's life seems to have started with marriage and becoming a mother. Through most of the book, we hear nothing of her family other than one story about getting drunk on vodka at an in-law's house. Right at the end of the book, when Ingrid is processing what her Russian escapades have shown her about herself, the author hints at childhood tragedies. What they are isn't made clear, which makes me wonder if this book is the first in a series. If it is, I'll be reading the next one as soon as it's available. As flaky as Ingrid is, she's a sympathetic and endearing woman. I'd love to know how her life goes on.
PS If your e-reader isn't equipped with a dictionary, you need to look up "replicant" before you read this book. Unless you're a sci-fi fan. In which case, forget I said anything. Really. I apologize. And I'm NOT a replicant.