The Pieces from Berlin by Michael Pye

The trouble with browsing at the library is that you often find a book with a strong spine on the dust jacket, but a lack of spine on the inner pages. That might be a little harsh, but this book, The Pieces from Berlin by Michael Pye, began so strongly. It piqued my interest with the issues it seemed to bring up -- possession, mysteries in the family, the mind's memory, and, of course, wartime and the aftermath it brings for generations to come. Sounded pretty good. And it was pretty good...until it became hard to follow.
It's difficult to read a book once you feel like you don't understand it anymore. The main character was an elderly lady sinking into a memory loss brought on by the despair she felt as situations became more difficult for her...I think. That's the trouble with this book. I felt like it was either a lot dumber than me, or a whole lot smarter. I think the latter is more likely, but still...if I have to stop and say, "Wait...what?" too many times during a novel, I am always happy to see the last page in sight.