Lime Street Blues, Paperback Book
2 out of 5 (1 rating)


A wonderful Liverpool saga spanning forty years from bestselling author Maureen Lee.1960s Liverpool's glamorous world of music is the place to be.

So when Sean, Lachlan and Max form The Merseysiders, and Jeannie and Rita become part of The Flower Girls, they put heart and soul into their performances and achieve success beyond their wildest dreams.

The greatest star of all is Sean McDowd, adored by women everywhere yet unable to get his first love out of his mind.

But Jeannie Flowers has married Lachlan...No one is prepared for the deceits and betrayals that lie ahead.


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Who reads these novels, really? I'm thinking either those 'voracious' readers who claim 'I'll read anything, even the back of the cornflakes packet!', or terminally bored housewives. Perhaps Maureen Lee's other 'Liverpool lass' stories are better constructed, but I won't be bothering to find out. Only the 1960s setting and 'creative' blurb tempted me to try this one, but the characters, plot, pacing and writing quickly reminded me why I generally avoid 'family sagas'. There are too many good books out there that are worth reading!If E.L. James' <i>Fifty Shades of Grey</i> mummy porn was originally <i>Twilight</i> fan fiction, then Lee's <i>Lime Street Blues</i> is the Beatles equivalent. Edited by a fifteen year old. Liverpool lads Lachlan, Sean and Max form a band in the early 1960s, while Sean's sister Rita and Lachlan's girlfriend Jeannie become 'The Flower Girls' (yeah, I know), a groundbreaking girl group. The rest of the novel, hopping from 1960 to 1967 to 1975 to 1983, covers little more than the domestic woes and ever-increasing offspring of the two bands and their families. Everything is resolved neatly, people change partners like underwear, and the ending is beyond ridiculous. I didn't feel for any of the characters, because Lee favours the 'tell not show' method of storytelling, and Jeannie, Lachlan and Sean are all cliches anyway.Maureen Lee obviously knows what her readers like, but gagging on the nostalgic fiction equivalent of Werther's Originals is not for me.

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