I did enjoy New York, by Edward Rutherfurd. However, I did not find it as enjoyable as his previous books. Usually, his books are very well-placed in the world, and you have an exact sense of the geography of the place of the book. Perhaps because he is not as familiar with New York and America, that precise sense is lacking in this book. The locations are still described, but not in the same way. It’s the difference between describing the appearance of a cake, and describing every moment of its creation, complete with recipe.
He does not provide a genealogy, as he does in all his other books, and while I see that is a useful stylistic change and provides for greater suspense in terms of the story, I missed the ability to look back and remind myself of who was who and their overall place in the story.
The book ends very shortly after September 11, 2001, and I could not help but think that this book was written solely as a response to that terrible day. While that day is important, much elso has happened in New York before (which he does cover) and since, and I resent a little this Englishman only writing about America after such a terrible tragedy.
In short, a nice book but not as in depth as some of his other books, and carrying a sense of being written in response to tragedy.
Three out of five stars.