Awful. Trivial tripe terribly written. What possessed me to buy a book about a handbag?
Just be be clear about it, that is zero stars for the first 40 pages, consequently abandoned.
And one reflects (again) on the state of French ‘literature’ that this author is highly regarded in that country as a writer of the same.
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“Mon Dieu, zis, ‘ow you say, zis “Importance of Being Earnest”, never of my life I ‘ave seen such merde. A ‘eap of nonsense about a ‘andbag. Zese English, c’est horrible. ‘Ow it is possible zat zey like it?”
I welcome you to waste a portion of your life reading The Red Notebook in whatever language you please and then tell me that it is comparable to Oscar Wilde. Perhaps the self-importance of the French may lead them to such a comparison, but you, sir, are an Englishman.