Is it just me?

Any time I don't really enjoy something that seems universally praised, I have a bad habit of asking myself: did I just not get it? But then I also sometimes wonder: when art is so widely praised, is it because others have asked themselves that same question, and continue said praise so as to avoid looking like they didn't get it?

I call this the Thin Red Line syndrome.

I have shades of this syndrome after finishing The History of Love, by Nicole Krauss. I really liked Leo, one of the main characters, but have to admit to being tired of the lots-of-different-storylines-coming-together-at-the-end thing that seems to have plagued literature in recent years. I was not overly impressed by the book as a whole, and certainly never found myself "vertiginously excit[ed]," but again, maybe you have to be a critic to get that excited about a novel? Tough call.

For me, I'll give this book a C+; I finished it, and I enjoyed looking at the world through Leo's eyes, but overall, I feel this book is overhyped.