A review by tabbrower
The Princetta by Anne-Laure Bondoux

2.25

I read the Princetta as a teenager and eventually got rid of it one move or another—it was fine, that’s all. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it, reminded here and there of mesua wood and a letter slipped behind a dresser and Orpheus and a sturdy St. Bernard named Zephyr after a flighty wind. I eventually tracked a copy down this year, and—it’s fine, that’s all. The broad strokes and tiny details remain of interest to me, but everything in between suffered from thin characterization, poor dialogue, and a tedious tendency to wrap each moment up in a boring bow. I’m glad it exists? And maybe I should be kinder about it? But I just wish so deeply that there was more substance to this journey past the end of the Known World.