The Seven Sisters by Lucinda Riley
Genre: I literally don’t care
The first book of the year always sets the tone for the rest of the reading year which for me was an epic fail. As a book club read, I dove into The Seven Sisters by Lucinda Riley, the first novel of a best-selling series. The premise was promising. A rich tycoon adopts seven girls from across the world and raises them on his private island. When he mysteriously dies, he leaves each girl with clues to discover their beginnings if they so wish.
The novel focuses on Maia, his eldest daughter’s journey to her homeland of Brazil. She finds her ailing grandmother who has no interest in her. A reluctant housekeeper shares a stash of letters that reveal the romantic story of great-grandmother, Isabela. In her heyday, Isabela was the most beautiful and eligible girl in all of Rio, and her rich family moved into some of the most elite circles. Forced into an arranged marriage, she requests her parents for a trip to Europe before her life is tied down. With great trust, she is granted that wish, which she promptly breaks as she predictably falls in love with a French artist. So much for female emancipation.
Maia makes a very tenuous connection with the tribulations of her great-grandmother and her very own life. Riley also throws in the history of the architecture of Christ The Redeemer to lend the book some gravitas.
It does not help which is disappointing as The Seven Sisters had so much potential. Rich, mysterious father, squabbling siblings, unknown origin stories, world travel, and so on. And all of it squandered because of mediocre writing, bland characters, forced lusterless romance, and boring heroine(s). When I finished the last chapter, I had more questions than answers but no curiosity to pick u the sequels
Photo by Raphael Nogueira on Unsplash
