This wisp of a story (her second very short novel–My Sister, My Friend–1965) is just about as impalpable as the pollen count and can be read more easily than remembered. It’s almost impossible to place in time; old-fashioned snobberies co-exist with newer fashion touches. And it’s told in an immodest, sometimes deliberately insufferable first person by Jane, twenty-two, during the summer when her cousin Belinda, whose parents were impossible, comes to stay with them. Belinda is now orphaned, childlike, untidy, gauche, but she has a nakedly open capacity for love to which Ronny, whom Jane plans to marry some time because he’s very “”eligible,”” responds. Jane, on the other hand, is a little attracted by Belinda’s older brother, all she has left anywhere, who is killed, and Belinda is quickly despatched–off into the big world–with a small check and a clear conscience by Jane’s mother. The point made is minimal enough–the contrast between those who love, and those who can’t, and this is only for those with lots of pin money.
Pub Date: Jan. 13, 1966
ISBN: N/A
Page Count: –
Publisher: Morrow-Reynal
Review Posted Online: N/A
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 1966
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