I read The Christmas Box by Richard Paul Evans yesterday afternoon. The best thing about it was that it was short. I feel a little like Elaine from Seinfeld when she hated the highly acclaimed "English Patient".
There must be something wrong with me. That's the only explanation, right?
Don't get me wrong. It's a sweet story. A sad story and a good reminder of what is really, truly important--especially at Christmas. I get the message. I gave my babies extra hugs last night.
So, maybe my real problem with the book is actually the length. There wasn't time to develop any of the characters very well. I don't care about them yet. It's hard to be too emotionally moved by a story if you just don't care about them.