This book has received glowing reviews but I was underwhelmed. As the author says, it is a novel about love if you stretch the definition broadly. But I would hesitate to call it a novel. It is more a collection of loosely connected stories and vignettes about seemingly random people that occasionally intersect. Maybe I'm missing the "artistry" here but it just didn't work for me. Incidentally, the title comes from the fact that each chapter is titled by an adverb. I'll stick with Handler's nom de plume, Lemony Snicket.
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