My reading slump continues. However, I did manage to read Mercy Street over the course of the last three weeks. I had high expectations for the novel. It was well-written. It was an extremely interesting topic. I am assuming that my failure to connect with the book has more to do with my current mood than the quality of the book. As always, this review is intended to be nothing more than a dialogue about my own experience with the book at this particular moment in time.
Mercy Street is set in Boston and focuses on the daily operation of an abortion clinic and the women who work there. These women do not have all of the answers to life’s pressing issues. They face struggles and uncertainty. Some are even facing their own unwanted pregnancy.
To make matters worse, the staff learns that pictures are being snapped of patients as they enter the facility. When the staff discovers the photographs included on the “Hall of Shame” online, they are certain that their patients and all who work there are in extreme danger.
This was definitely an engaging, exciting read. My problem arose from the numerous storylines that ran parallel to each other. I connected with the women in the clinic. I found the drug dealer and the End Times vigilante to be flat, two-dimensional characters. It wasn’t that I didn’t identify with them. They simply didn’t seem real in my imagination.
I’ve placed Mercy Street in a prominent place so I will see it again this summer. Perhaps I’ll pick it up again and give it another chance. For right now, I have to admit that I was let down by my reading experience.
Reading for Me 
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