It’s a brilliant book. It’s amongst the best written books I’ve ever read. It’s got the magic that made me smile, nod my head in agreement, screech inside, and be sad. Be very sad.
It’s probably the best book I’ll read this year.
That’s not good. Because it’s over. I didn’t want it to be over. I finished it in three sittings, but I want it to go on for ever.
It also means that anything I read for the next while will feel like it’s taking something precious away. Like eating a dessert after having a steak at Le relais de venise. When I want to savour the taste of that steak in my mouth, anything I eat next will spoil it. And yet, I can’t go without eating forever. Or without reading. Like she says: “nowhere to go but down”.
For another, I’m already in a rump. I’m not happy. I’m not working. I’m not working out. I’m still injured. I’m gaining weight at pound-a-day. And all my relationships are already on that slope that has nowhere to go but down. I didn’t need another source of sadness. And such a beautifully written source, at it.