The Collector is the story of a man named Frederick – a bit of an odd duck and a collector of butterflies – who, upon winning a rather large pool of money, decides to collect and observe a new specimen – the lovely Miranda.
Here’s yet another book that’s been on my TBR for an eternity that I never bothered to read. I have, however, read/watched many of the stories that were inspired by this 60+ year old tale and I’m sure many of you have as well. The theme has become a fairly common one . . . .
And it tends to be a winner for me – the most recent example I can think of being The Butterfly Garden. So why the “meh” reaction to this original? Unfortunately it can all be blamed on Miranda . . . .
Yeah, she was the worst. I would have never been interested in her viewpoint to begin with, but to make her an insufferable asshole was just the icing on the cake. The magic in The Collector is held by Frederick alone – changing the narrator for the middle portion of the story made the wheels fall off a bit for me. That ending saved things, though . . . . .
Creep level = EXPERT!