I went to a book club once, years ago, and it was Esquivel's turn. That's it. That is all I should say about this book. Because if I begin to remember everything I hated about it... Well. It will not be pretty for me. I mean, I enjoy magical realism, but not when it is so damn sappy, mushy, sentimental and other 5 synonyms that I can't come up with right now. I don't know. I guess I don't do well with such an enormous amount of melodramatic romance. It is fine when it's a well-written part of the story. But when the descriptions become so ugh... I just feel bad.