If you want to read a story about privileged, entitled, perverted white men and the mousy, doormat, weak wives who “love” them, then you will enjoy
A Version of the Truth.
Told in past and present POVs from Holly, a sheltered freshman student at Oxford, and Julianne, the wife of James, also of Oxford.
A traumatic assault Holly suffered as a young woman will have devastating repercussions for everyone involved in the future.
Let me be blunt; there are no nice people here, not even vaguely sympathetic ones, except for Stephen, Julianne and James' son, the only one with moral fiber and a backbone.
Everyone is disgusting scum, including the women. There is tedious talk about sex, intercourse, and more sex, people having sex, snarky comments and sneaky asides about who is doing whom.
Then, we get more disturbing talk about rape, gang rape, sexual trafficking, and none of this added to the narrative or moved the plot forward. After a few pages, it all became monotonous and extremely childish.
Besides all the blatant sexual violence against women and members of the LGBT community, there is gay bashing, appearance and slut shaming, sexism and misogyny only Weinstein could love coupled with despicable, hateful male characters, and the typical (poor) representations of women as weak, cowardly and sad.
Holly, as an assault survivor, does not engender much sympathy. She is an awkward and sheltered individual, she is (not so secretly) judgmental, bitter and jealous.
She is attracted to James and experiences an almost unholy jealousy when she discovers he has a girlfriend, even though she has no claim to him.
Julianne, like ALL wives in these kinds of books, fakes it (denial ain't just the longest river in Egypt) until she makes it, until she can't do it anymore.
Naturally, she is gorgeous and married to James, another gorgeous individual, who has lived in denial for nearly 30 years, because...she's scared? She's a coward? OK, fine. but that doesn't mean I like or empathize with you.
What the narrative lacks in plot is made up in how much time Julianne spends gasping in shock and vomiting and bewildered and more shocked expressions when she realizes her husband is scum.
Here's a tip; why don't you stop fainting like a Victorian lady and...oh, I don't know, MAN UP! It's not as if you didn't know.
But the real hard to suspend disbelief moment came was how Julianne discovers her husband's indiscretions.
How many tabs does he have open?
How many cloud accounts does he have that she has no idea that he's been dropping incriminating items into the FAMILY ACCOUNT?
Is he that stupid? That's rhetorical.
I'm seeing too many of these plots, where the evil characters are white, privileged men up to the usual Anthony Weiner shenanigans (or worse) and the stupid women who love them and eventually discover what kind of men they really are! (insert fake gasp here).
Oh, and the ending...please, don't get me started on that Lifetime cheesiness. Now I'm the one who wants to puke.
I have no idea if the author was trying to make a statement about the #MeToo movement but if he or she was, it was an EPIC FAIL.