I wasn’t really sure that I wanted to read The Year the Gypsies Came. The first few chapters weren’t all that encouraging. Then suddenly, probably with the arrival of Buza and his stories, I was captivated. And then, when I saw the bad stuff coming, it was too late for me to decide not to read it.
Bad stuff in this book, lots of bad stuff.
I really enjoyed the book, I just wish… well, read it for yourself. You’ll see what I mean. But beware, it isn’t really a happy book.
Edited: I just realized this was a book I had on my A to Z list challenge. Yay me! (I’ll never complete the challenge but it’s one step closer.)
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