The Woman Who Stole My Life

I love Marian Keyes's books, especially her Walsh sister books, but I think maybe I've gotten to a place where I don't want to read a book about a woman who is so disappointed and obsessed with her weight that she can't even say the word “belly” out loud.

Wow, I just finished “The Women Who Stole My Life” by Marian Keyes, and I've gotta say, it was a struggle to get through. 500 pages of pure frustration? Check. Boring plot? Double check.

Let's start with the characters - or should I say, the lack of character development. It felt like Keyes had a vague outline and just threw in whatever popped into her head. The result? A repetitive mess with a writing style that left a lot to be desired.

And don't even get me started on the main character. Without giving away spoilers, her decisions were so infuriating that I found myself wanting to throw the book across the room. How many times can you yell “Why?!” at a page before you lose your mind?

The plot conveniences were off the charts. I mean, seriously? How is any of this supposed to make sense? And backstory? What backstory? It's like Keyes forgot that readers might want to know, oh I don't know, why things are happening?

There were a few funny moments sprinkled throughout, but they were so few and far between that they definitely weren't worth slogging through the rest of the book for.

I'm feeling generous, so I'll give it two stars instead of one. There were a couple of redeeming qualities, but they were about as rare as finding a four-leaf clover in a concrete jungle.

In short, unless you're a masochist who enjoys literary torture, you might want to give this one a hard pass.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

I was very afraid of not enjoying this book, and at about 100 pages read, it seemed sadly likely: characters were annoying or unidimensional, storyline was dramatic, and I couldn't foresee redemption - nor understand what kind of book it was.
Then as the story progressed, some things were confirmed - the fact Ryan was a spineless s.o.b., Gilda was a horrible conniving cow, Karen was a bulldozer, but she was right about Jeffrey deserving a good clout... but, on top of it all, that Mannix indeed was the freaking perfect man. A tad too much, actually. A smart, caring, handsome doctor who never does anything wrong and loves imperfect Stella to the end... but it was impossible not to fall for him.
All in all, I'd rather have it shorter - chick lits don't have to be this long - and fewer, albeit more deeply explored characters. Even Stella was a tad blurry for me: clueless, truly good, the balance is unclear . But it was still good, old Marian Keyes. Mostly.

I love Marian Keyes but I have to agree with other reviewers that this was a bit of a disappointment. The premise was interesting and there were plenty of funny parts, but they didn't really add up to anything. Stella shows a lot of strength in her recovery from the illness that paralyzes her, but she is very passive otherwise. A lot of things happen to her (and again, some of them are very funny), but she never really takes charge of her own life. The romance falls flat too because of the inequity of roles between Stella and the object of her affection.

I will always view early Keyes books Rachel's Holiday, Watermelon, and Last Chance Saloon to be among the best early British Chick Lit, but her more recent efforts have been less impressive.

Marian Keyes has always remained one of my favourite authors, her lovely homely books about big energetic Irish families are always humorous and engaging and have very often had me laughing out loud. I was therefore full of high expectations for her latest novel “The Woman Who Stole My Life”.

From the outset this book was intriguing, we are introduced to our heroine Stella Sweeney, a forty something mum of two who has just returned to Ireland from America where she's gone from being a successful author to a person struggling to manage her teenage son and adjusting back to a smaller less exciting life than that she had in America.

Woven throughout the first part of the book are flashbacks to a few years previously when Stella contacted a potentially fatal disease which left her paralysed and unable to move or speak and stuck in intensive care. These parts of the book chart her growing relationship with her neurologist Mannix who communicates with her in a way only they can manage.

Keyes books have always been full of interesting characters, if I had one criticism of this book it would have been that there were almost too many of them. It's a book of two halves with the first firmly being about Stella's illness intertwined with her present day struggles to settle back into life in Ireland. Just as I'd gotten myself firmly into the setting of this the book seemed to take us somewhere different switching to Stella's time in America following the publication of her book. A different cast was introduced and the story just seemed to shift.

I struggled a little with this disjointed approach and by about 60% of the way through I was struggling a little. I wasn't as invested in Stella as I should have been. I even would go so far as to say I found her a tiny bit annoying. I found her a bit too flaky and I almost stopped rooting for her. When it came to the end of the book I didn't feel I'd gone on enough of a journey with her. I'd started out really feeling sorry for her during her illness but slowly the book meandered through plot twists that didn't engage me enough.

Am I disappointed by this book? If I'm honest, yes a little bit. It just seemed to lack structure. It had bits that didn't seem to add anything to the characters or plot (e.g. the whole project karma thing). It was a nice read with flashes of brilliance but I'd come to expect better from Keyes.

As mentioned in a previous review, I'm not an avid fan of chick-lit, but Marian Keye's humour appeals to me.
Although not as madcap as “Watermelon”, “The Woman Who Stole My Life' is an enjoyable read, with a host of memorable characters. As with all Keye's books there are characters and/or situations the reader can relate to.
Marian Keyes, in my humble opinion, is the cream of Irish writers, and the only chick-lit this particular chick will read.