If this book had skewed more to the murder mystery genre, perhaps I could have forgiven its poor character development, and been more compelled by the story. Or, if the characters had been written more deeply, perhaps I could have enjoyed it as the literary novel I was hoping it would be. As it is, it's a rather weak novel with weak characters that I just didn't care about, with a predictable and overly-dramatic "mystery" dragging it along. I'm giving it 3 stars because Dermont's prose is occasionally quite fine, so it's difficult to toss the book altogether. But on the other hand, that makes it all the more disappointing.

I wish that this novel had actually been a "smart, sassy reflection on the varieties of female experience", as Kirkus Reviews asserts. Hustvedt aims at some meaty topics (marriage and fidelity, teenage girlhood, minor and major insanity, aging, childhood imagination...) but never hits a real emotional mark. Her wit and elevated observations feel forced and effortful, her characters remain flat actors reciting lines, and I couldn't make myself care about any of them. Smart, but not nearly smart enough, The Summer Without Men will disappoint readers wanting more of the sharp intellect and swift craftsmanship Hustved revealed in What I Loved.