The premise, CIA agent girl in love with a rich British guy in the romantic city of Marrakech, had so much promise. At least on the dust jacket. Maybe even the first fifty pages.
Then the story gets cluttered.
It’s only just have 300 pages so that’s fairly short. Lulu, Ian, Robin, Posy, Gazi, Khaled, Suma, Pierre, Taft, Walt, Tom, Habiba, Barka, Pring, Nancy, Mrs. Cotter, Mr. Cotter, Madame Frank, Amid, Lord Drumm, Desi, Miryam… that’s far, far too many characters for such a short book.
Lulu, as evidenced by the title, is the main character. She’s in love with Ian… but Ian hardly gets developed at all. In fact, he’s built up as the possible British agent to match Lulu/only her lover/a flat out terrorist but he only sort of becomes all those things.
Lulu is also a terrible CIA agent. If she’s any sort of representative of how CIA agents really operate, it’s not really surprising that the intelligence community misses so much.
The close of the book read almost like an editor said the book was getting too long and it needed to be wrapped up post haste so the author figured out the easiest, quickest way to tie everything up in neat little boxes. And the boxes are neat… if only because the story is too neat as a whole. Everything goes just as it should.
In the end, I mostly just wished I was reading a book about Posy instead of Lulu.
(this is copied from my Goodreads page)