I purchased this on a whim thinking it sounded like a whimsical, if spooky and mysterious, literary tale with an unusual conceit. Secretive old families in Yorkshire who eat books? Sounds right up my alley, as a Brontë and Austen fan.
What I got was sci-fi with a “perpetually online” flavor that was heavy-handed, predictable and disturbing, and not in a good way. I finished it feeling like I need a shower. Clearly, some books make for poor “eating” after all.
