The Last Tale of the Flower Bride: The #1 Sunday Times Bestseller

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Through palpable tension balanced with glimmers of hope, Hoover beautifully captures the heartbreak and joy of starting over.

The book reminds me of Rebecca with the main character without a name and the hasty marriage. I don’t really feel a connection between the couple and wonder why they like each other. Of the two character perspectives, the author was clearly more invested in one and the other served only as the handrail through which the preferred plot progressed upwards. But her prose is so glaringly purple that it buries the story. It muddles the plot and makes it difficult to discern what each character is attempting to accomplish. And even though I was curious enough to see the novel through to its end, trudging my way through the prose left me exhausted. Anyway, I’m excited to continue and I’m really curious about The Bridegroom’s brother and how he might come in to play later.Since today is day 1, we’ll be reading from the beginning to the end of Chapter 7. Get comfy and let’s get started! We follow a double POV, one in the present and one in the past, and both evolve around a mysterious and beautiful woman named Indigo Maxwell-Casteñada. In the present, we follow the Bridegroom, a young historian who married Indigo, and vowed to never pry into her past. In parallel, we follow Indigo and her best friend when they were teenagers, all of this before the best friend's mysterious disappearance.

Once upon a time, a man who believed in fairy tales married a beautiful, mysterious woman named Indigo Maxwell-Casteñada. He was a scholar of myths. She was heiress to a fortune. They exchanged gifts and stories and believed they would live happily ever after—and in exchange for her love, Indigo extracted a promise: that her bridegroom would never pry into her past.

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I’ve always liked fairytales and myths because they either seek to explain the world around them or offer no explanation for the magic that might at times be cruel and other times kind. That kind of callous randomness is almost comforting. It says “It’s nothing personal. It’s just, well, life.” Other times it suggests that such awfulness is outside our mortal scope of understanding and that’s also fine.