Summer on Blossom Street

I don't know why I read Debbie Macomber's Summer On Blossom Street. I didn't particularly want to read it, but I just couldn't stop myself. I need a Blossom Street intervention.

This is the thing. I read the two first books in the series and thought they were cute. Not literary marvels for sure but cute and yeah, more than a bit sappy. But there was knitting and at the time there wasn't a heck of a lot of knitty fiction out there.

But then I made the HUGE mistake of listening to Twenty Wishes on audio. When you listen to a book like this on audio you cannot gloss over the sappy stuff that gets kind of irritating. It doesn't not help when the reader has a very earnest voice that puts lots of emphasis on the sappy phrases and emphasizes them. It was kind of painful. So when I started reading this all I could hear was the narrator's voice in my head. And that was a very, very bad thing.

Summer on Blossom Street was no better or no worse than any of the other Blossom Street books. It follows pretty much the same pattern - it follows a few people who live, work or shop on Blossom Street over the course of several months. As always there's a connection to the yarn store. Some of characters have family problems. Others are looking for love.  And of course at the end of the book most of their issues are wrapped up in a shiny bow. People fall in love. Issues get resolved. Everyone is happy. Yada yada yada

I just can't read any more of these. I really shouldn't read any more of these. Of course, I've said that before. What is up with that? It's like when you crave Kraft Dinner (Kraft Mac n Cheese for you Americans). In your mind it's familiar, comforting and tastes good. Then you make it and then two bites in you realize that it never really did taste good and you are being tricked by time and nostalgia. Blossom Street is literary KD for me and no, I just don't gotta have it. Someone just needs to remind me of that when the next book comes out, m'kay?