The Lambs of London

by Paul Ackroyd

The message of this novel was difficult to decipher. A young man, dissatisfied with how unnoticed he is by everyone, writes several things and attributes them to Shakespeare, and a few gullible people believe him until some others who possess actual functioning brains question the legitimacy of the documents. Since the story arc is so obvious (you know basically from the minute it starts that the documents are false and the young man made them up, although you aren't "told" until close to the end-- not sure if it was supposed to be so obvious or not but I can't imagine anyone missing the boat), the focus is more on the individual lives and thoughts of the characters. Unfortunately, I found the three main characters rather flat and hard to sympathize or empathize with. The woman in particular led such an empty life that it depressed me to read the book, and the man she fixated on neither understood her nor cared about her. A whole day could go by where she either stayed in bed or the highlight was fixing tea for her father. Her brother was clueless and also led a loveless, frustrated life.

So what were we supposed to glean from this? That it is always a bad idea to try to pass off your own work as that of another's? That the yearning for attention can wreck people's characters and cause them to be dishonest while being a normally good (if childlike and emotionally stunted) person? That the masses (all the people who so desperately wanted another Shakespeare work that they would believe whoever had the guts to produce one without proof) are easily led? That young women can and will go literally crazy if they fall in a river and/or have too much excitement in their lives? WHAT???

At any rate, I'm glad to be done with this one. I'm not really a fan of depressing fiction.