I liked, disliked, felt put off by, and felt related to every character in this book. Of the big four, both men suffer from the same affliction I do: finding it irresistible when a woman really needs me. Leonora is less like me but she's someone I can feel for: appears cold, acts on her strong moral conscience, but internally passionate and tormented.
The least sympathetic is Florence, and even she is understandable when you consider her origins and her dreams.

The author deserves all the credit for making me feel this way, because his careful, gradual disclosure of information at first makes me feel I don't like any of them (they're all hypocrites and John Dowell is a spineless self-deceiver), and then he confuses my impressions and makes sure I don't do what John does--judge people on first impressions.

The one thing that really put me off about the book was the stereotypes that our Protestant Yankee narrator holds about Catholics. Does he really know any of them?