Though the overarching concept surrounding The Swimming Pool (the somewhat incestuous and tragically intertwined lives of two bored upper middle class families, who happen to summer in the sleepy Northern beach community) is nothing new, author Holly LeCraw treats her characters with a surprising sensitivity, and an almost complete lack of irony.
This isn't one of those "Wow, suburbanites are so vapid and shallow" books. And while many of LeCraw's characters do some very reprehensible things in the context of the novel, the author steps into each of their heads dutifully, and without judgment. (To be honest, I wouldn't have minded a bit more humor and judgment. But that's just me.)
Where I think The Swimming Pool succeeds most is its character development. LeCraw has this refreshingly fluid (like a "swimming pool") and almost lyrical writing style, that helps you move seamlessly from the mind of one character to another. And though some characters tend to be more likeable and relatable than others (I, personally, found it much easier to get into the heads of the broody Jed and affable Cecil, than the steely, perpetually angry Anthony, or the often-caustic, and secretly troubled Callie.), they all feel remarkably real.
For the first half of the book, I was sold. I enjoyed delving into the minds of these physically beautiful and emotionally complex people, as they lusted after one another, had earth-shattering sex, battled with their consciences, and wondered why they were still so miserably unhappy. But somewhere in the middle, what had started out as "new and exciting," gradually devolved into "just more of the same." I simply didn't see a lot of growth in these characters, who (with the exception of having a lot of great sex) seemed to spend more time THINKING about doing things than actually doing them.
As many other reviewers have mentioned, I found the revelations relating to the mysteries surrounding the novel, and its conclusion a bit unsatisfying. Was it realistic? Sure. Not everything in life has a clear beginning, middle and end. And "The Swimming Pool" is, at it's core, a "slice of life" type book.
But I guess in reading, I tend to look for something more finite and conclusive, when I arrive at the last page . . . a belly flop, swan dive, or cannon ball . . . Here, I just got turned right back around to where I started . . . and told to swim another lap.