The Clockmaker’s Daughter by Kate Morton
My rating: 1 of 5 stars
I voluntarily read and reviewed an ARC of this book. All thoughts and opinions are my own.
Kate Morton used to be one of my all-time favourite authors. During the time I was reading her first three books, I was not to be disturbed. I was enchanted and pulled into her skilled way of storytelling. Sadly, with her fourth book, The Secret Keeper, I began to notice a change in her writing style. This continued with The Lake House and now with her most recent publication The Clockmaker’s Daughter. I missed her old way of telling a rich story and thought I would give this one a try, hoping she had been able recapture the magic of her earlier works. Alas, I was wrong.
I couldn’t connect with any of the characters. Truth be told, I couldn’t stand the protagonist for the simple reason that she felt unrealistic. A 30-year-old woman keeps blushing when she thinks of her fiancé. Sure, maybe that was more the case in the 1850’s, but this character belonged to the modern world portion of the story, as in 2017, according to the chapter titles. I can understand that the author tried to create a woman that is supposed to be meek, timid and even unsure of herself, but in her attempt she produced a character that could have been in her late teens. Furthermore, the character of a young girl was inconsistent in her maturity level. The rest of the characters felt just outside the reader’s grasp and made it impossible to establish any sort of connection that could justify the commitment of reading an almost 500-page book about them.
A plot, or overall story arc, or the thing that hooks the reader to continue the story was kind of there, but really felt far fetched and I kept wondering when the actual, true point of the story would begin.
The writing, as I mentioned above, has changed quite a bit from the author’s first three novels and had me wonder as to the reason for such a change. In this story we have a narrator that painstakingly takes the reader through almost every minute detail of the protagonist’s day, creates a story in which it appears the street names the protagonist crosses and historical facts listed without much passion for the craft have greater importance than the love and dedication the author used to put into her stories. Instead, we find a type of arrogance within the pages that makes the reader wonder where the passion for writing has gone.
Overall, looking at this story I have to make the decision to part ways with this author’s new publications. Eventually I may return to her older works, but the direction she is taking her stories and her current writing style aren’t my cup of tea. I will fondly remember reading her first three books and I should not spoil these memories by holding on to something that isn’t there anymore. With a heavy heart I will have to give this one a pass.
