The Authenticity Project is yet another book I’ve read of late which had a great premise but fell down when it came to the actual delivery.
The ‘project’ is actually just a notebook into which 79 year-old Julian, a flamboyant artist who was part of the ‘it’ crowd in his day, writes admissions of being a lonely old man since his wife, whom he underappreciated completely, died. After writing his ‘authentic’ story in the book, he leaves it lying around for someone to pick up and read. The idea is for them to then write their own story before leaving it for the next person, and so on. We follow the story of all those who find his book and the relationships they have with each other because of the book.
Pooley was obviously going for a Love, Actually/Four Weddings and a Funeral type interconnecting characters feel. However, the whole thing didn’t work as well as it should. I didn’t find the book particularly funny, nor did I believe in the romance. At the very least, for this type of multi-character book to work, you need to fall in love with the characters and their plights. In this, their plights/plots were bland and boring and I’m afraid I had trouble liking some of the characters, let alone loving them.
Julian is probably the one Pooley was counting on us finding the most charming. However, I found him to be a selfish git most of the time. His timeline also felt completely wrong. As in, a man his age would have been well into his 40s during the 80s and, therefore, his love for the clothes and music from that decade felt a little confusing and wrong.
Other characters include Monica, a germophobe neurotic mess; Hazard, an alcoholic with a stupid name; Alice, a yummy-mummy insta-star; and two gay couples who play such a minor part it’s obvious they’ve been thrown in so Pooley could check off her ‘must have for diversity’ list.
And don’t get me started on the Australian character who Pooley uses as a dumb blond ignoramus which, for obvious reasons, made me mad. (Note to everyone who reads this, the only people to call toilets a dunny would be over 60 and everyone in Aus knows who Nigella and Jamie Oliver are. *hmph*)
The book also suffers from the same problem as a lot of others on the market at the moment -- it’s about 100 pages too long. The plot and characters were far too weak and the writing too pedestrian to expect it to stretch out to almost 400 pages. I did read to the end of the book but maybe that was out of sheer stubbornness on my part.
I guess, considering the addiction storylines (all the characters are addicted to something, alcohol, social media, cleaning etc), Pooley had the best intentions when she wrote this book. Unfortunately, I’ve come to discover that good intentions (and, in this case, a good idea/premise) doesn’t necessarily mean a good read. I’d rate this maybe 2 ½, 3 at a pinch.