This book kind of sucked.
Okay, it kept my interest and distracted me while I was waiting to hear if we got an offer on the condo (we didn't, of course, but that's another story for another day). She tackles the ethical dilemma from an interesting angle- of course,we all wonder and worry about children conceived for the purposes of providing their siblings with cord blood for stem cell transplant, but she goes further, and wonders what would happen if the sibling continued to need tissue from that sibling.
Having said that, Jodi Picoult's oeuvre (for lack of a better word, sorry) reads like a list of Afterschool Specials or Very Special Episodes. This shouldn't have any bearing on this particular book, but that knowledge is really irritating to me. I'm not precisely sure why that is.
The most bothersome aspect of the book, for me, was the mom. I'm SO tired of authors writing about families struck by tragedy, with mothers that fall apart and fathers that are left to put the pieces back together and salvage the family. It's incredibly tiresome and this book is no exception. Yes, women are hysterical and irrational and men are caring and bewildered but always able to see the full picture and keep the family chugging along. I mean, it must be true, because all the books I'm thinking of were written by women, and wouldn't they know? (sigh.)
The subplot with Anna's lawyer was incredibly obvious to me, but maybe not to people in other professions. It was also, um, not an exact copy of Dr. Zhivago, but very...derivative.
The ending was a total cop-out, and while I didn't see it coming at all, it was still stupid.
I didn't like this book. I'm not sure what I'm reading next, but I hope I like it more than this one.