Another one for the Not-A-Review files:
Seems doubtful I would ever read this book.
One, I’ve always been iffy about the epistolary format, which is pretty odd, considering the volumes of letters I’ve written over my life. (Literally. One friend and I filled a two-inch three-ring binder at college). I mean, maybe that’s why; it’s too personal to be appropriate to what I feel a story needs. In a lot of letters, there’s the weight of history behind them. This set-up, perhaps, could transcend the form, but still, ultimately, the narrative style is usually So Much Describing.
Two, the other thing that happens in epistolary format is that there is so much ego, and I mean that in the literal sense. As a reader, you can’t escape from the narrator, so you had best like the narrator. Everything that happens is going to be from the Ego point of view. What happens to me, how it happens to me, how I felt about it, what I did. Ugh: get over yourself, already.
Two point five, that means world-building will often take a back seat. Unless the author is extremely clever with voice, there should be all sorts of assumptions that the letter-writers take for granted and don’t naturally elaborate on.
Third, romance, connection, whatever you want to call it, the main plot of this book is about two beings connecting. Generally not interested with prejudice if it’s the major plot point of the book. I’m not the one that reads the Missed Connections page for funsies.