My sister in law meant well.

Every page is a man on a hill telling you a thing you already know. Love is like this. Marriage is like this. Your children are not your children. He isn't wrong. He just isn't saying anything.

The voice is the trouble. It never stops being wise. Nobody is that steady for that long. A real person talking about grief gets something wrong somewhere in the middle of it, and that is where you would believe them.

I read all of it because it is short and because she asked me had I got to it yet.

One section I liked. The one on work. There are hands in that one. Ploughing, weaving, building a house. Something to hold. The rest of it floats off.

Four. People love this book and I'm not trying to take it off them. It wasn't for me. I said something polite at Christmas and left it there.

The cover on my copy is gold. That didn't help.