And I can’t write one for it. A tribute, that is. Tribute has none of the magic that makes Ms. Roberts books so wonderful. And, no, I don’t mean the kind that comes with elvish blood, though maybe there should have been, as that would have provided some interest.
In Cilla, the heroine, we have a washed up child star with lots of issues trying to rehab her grandmother’s old farm house in the Shenandoah Valley. The grandmother who was one of those unforgettable stars like Gable and Garbo, and who supposedly killed herself in said farm house. Ford, her hero, writes graphic novels, and lives across the street with his ugly dog.
Folks, the only entertainment comes from that dog, Spock (I picture the Target dog, only worse). The only parts of the book that drew a chuckle or a smile involved the dog. Even the male friendship dynamics for which Ms. Roberts is famous for portraying wasn’t there. Or, to be more precise, lacked entertainment value. And at no point in this book was I even tempted to cry.
All in all, Tribute was a disappointment to me. I didn’t hate it, or particularly dislike it, but I didn’t like it, either. Ambivalence. I don’t believe I’ve ever felt that about a Nora Roberts read.
Rating: 3 out of 5 stars (average)