Rating: A grudging full 1* of fiveI am not a woman. I think one needs to be a woman to appreciate Jean Rhys. I think one needs to be a Lifetime/WE/Oxygen viewer to appreciate Jean Rhys.Sophia is a fallen woman returning to the scene of the crimes she committed in her youth. Paris being the venue. The details are too tedious to go into here, but suffice it to say that this dimwitted tree-sloth of a souse is almost, but not quite, as much fun to hang around with as a tranquilized heifer.I hated the book, from its vintage-1970 jacket (uuugh) to its cigarette-scented pages, many of which the last person to check the book out of the liberry (in 1983) was kind enough to sprinkle with hair and dandruff which landed on my chest as I turned them (I almost retched), and then on to its self-pitying, cloying, oh-shut-UP narrative of the nothing that happens to the narratrix.I didn't like Wide Sargasso Sea, either. I'm putttin' Jean Rhys in the bin. No more.