Every so often I like to keep up with what “the masses” are reading, embarking on a fiction journey worthy of third-grade prose and soap opera substance.

That’s me reading 28 Summers, the 2020 beach book written by the dean of all beach book authors, Elin Hilderbrand.

I think my opinion of its literary merit is already clear, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I don’t enjoy the guilty pleasure of such artistic slumming. The book is not without its amusing sections. And I love how the conflicts last only a few pages, like a series of rom-coms all with happy endings.

Case in point, when our protagonist (who, ironically, would laugh at beach books) meets an apparent Mr. Right at a Nantucket bar. (A few pages later it’s revealed he’s married… whoops!) Suitor discloses he doesn’t read much fiction,  perhaps only that related to sports or history or other unwoke subjects. I should have known he was not a perfect mate when he admits his favorite book is David Halberstam’s October 1964.

Ha!

My favorite book!

One of the funnier bumper stickers I’ve seen in recent years reads: “I’d rather be living in an Elin Hilderbrand novel.”

That does sound great…

though I’d probably be the bad guy!