This book is verging more into the ‘chick lit’ or ‘rom com’ territory than I would usually like, and yet, I did, on the whole like it.
Set in the 1950s, a young English woman, living in London and making a living creating new perfumes is jolted by visit to a fortune teller that sets her life on a totally different path leading her from London to Istanbul.
There’s a will-they/won’t-they relationship with her initially grumpy but dashing neighbour, and their relationship reminded me of the old black and white movies in quite a fun way.
The thing that annoyed me most about the book was the glaring grating Americanisms. Apparently the original French novel was translated into English by an American, who presumably doesn’t understand how British English works. Grrrr.
That aside though, it was a nice (if a little predictable) nostalgic feeling novel.
Sarah Wray Writer 