From Publishers Weekly
Bestseller Vincenzi's diverting if charmless latest delves into the lives of a massive cast brought together by a multicar accident on a London highway. The brisk, journalistic style makes it hard to fall for any of the characters, whose lives are filled with high and low drama: a truck driver racked with guilt over the accident; his terrified passenger, who flees the scene; a successful doctor trying to break up with his mistress; a groom and best man already late for the wedding due to scandalous circumstances; and a widow headed to reunite with a past love. After the crisis, their lives intertwine tangentially as, among others, the best man starts a relationship with an ER doctor, the truck driver's wife becomes close with the widow, and the mistress falls for the farmer whose land overlooks the accident scene. The story brings them all back together at the inquest, the cause of the accident is revealed and apologies are made. Though everyone gets their predictably happy ending, the way the obvious resolutions drag out makes this something like a once-enjoyable guest who has long outstayed his welcome.
(July) Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
From The Washington Post
From The Washington Post's Book World/washingtonpost.com Reviewed by Carolyn See About 300 pages into "The Best of Times," that military song about the field artillery came into my mind and wouldn't leave: "Over hill, over dale, as we hit the dusty trail . . . ." But it wasn't until a couple of hundred pages later that I understood why. Penny Vincenzi hasn't been content to write a nice piece of women's fiction. She has deployed an army of fictional troops, and she smacks them around like Gen. Patton. The central trope here is suitably violent: The best way for a lot of people to meet each other all at once is not a wedding or a church picnic but a wingding of a car crash -- with blood and guts and injuries and refrigerators and stoves whirling around like the dice of the gods, and about a dozen major characters, unhurt and hurt. I'm going to pass on naming these characters, except for a few, because you couldn't remember them anyway. The heroine here, I think, is a not-posh girl (this novel is set in England) named Abi who occasionally uses drugs and is having an affair with a hotshot doctor named Jonathan, who is married to a fairly priggish woman named Laura. Abi and Jonathan are having a huge fight in his car when the crash -- involving dozens of vehicles -- occurs. Abi gets out of the car and manages to meet a handsome dairy farmer named William whose property abuts the highway. That's four characters taken care of. There is also a pair of old public school chums who've turned out to be bankers, one decent, one awful, both of them on the brink of marriage; a self-absorbed wannabe actress of mixed blood who will pitch fits throughout the narrative; her hard-driving female agent, who will meet another doctor at the nearby hospital that takes in the many wounded; another female doctor, who will fall in love with the decent banker; and a little old lady of remarkable wit and charm who's on her way to the airport to meet an American tycoon she first fell in love with during World War II. "And those caissons go rolling along." This book isn't half as bad as it may sound so far, just wearying. There are only three truly unpleasant villains: a grumpy grown daughter of the little old lady, who wants to keep her mother from experiencing what may turn out to be the love of her life; Farmer William's scheming mother, who wants to keep her son from experiencing what may turn out to be the love of his life; and the awful young banker, who just decides to be awful one day. None of these people has any particular reason to be bad -- that's why they're villains. The rest are portrayed as balanced, even complex. But they're jerked about like yo-yos by their fretful creator. Do something deceitful, do something decent, do something right, do something dreadfully misguided! The plots range from "Will she miss him at the airport?" to "Will he lose his leg?" to "Will he die?" to "Will she get up her nerve to call him?" This last one, occurring in the final hundred pages between the female doctor and the decent banker, is particularly irritating because there isn't a reason in the world for them not to call each other, except that the author doesn't want them to. They do daydream about each other, though: "Her voice was quick and light; she never drawled, and when she smiled . . . God, when she smiled. . . . And her nose, and the way it wrinkled up when she giggled. He loved her nose." This is way past page 500, and the author has got to get busy winding up pretty soon. But she chooses to keep them all out in the dust, drilling under the sun, just a little bit longer. What can I say? "The Best of Times" isn't just a piece of fluff. Vincenzi is absolutely determined to give readers their money's worth. There's information about theater and television and wounds and sickness and lawsuits. And to end it all, she serves up a grand old English music festival in which almost every character who hasn't died shows up -- except for Jonathan the philandering husband, who prudently stays away -- to dance under a drenching English rain. (Will this weather clear up? One last plot question.) "The Best of Times" is perfectly okay, interesting even. It's just that it's a little more of a slog than an entertainment.
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