Finally, we cannot escape Belfer's first-novel need to digress, to manipulate. The potential, however, is diffused. Not one of the stories Louisa participates in is compelling enough to maintain our interest, principally because all stories seem to be of equal import. We would like to know why Louisa is so attached to Grace, but our attention is rerouted to the accident at the new generator, the seriousness of which dims with the obscure warnings from the several power brokers. There is hardly a building passed, a vista observed, a dress put on that we do not get an additional adjective, a third sentence, a new paragraph.
Pages fill up with superfluous detail.
Not only is our attention constantly deflected from one story to another, but there also is the consistent sense that the narrator is manipulating us. The resolution of the two murders is so contrived and dissatisfying that you wonder how it got past an editor. With the good stories she has at hand, such manipulation is not necessary. Belfer has little, and she is forced to turn her narrator into a reporter of conclusions. Louisa's brown-out as narrator and character embodies the dimming of a bright idea.