This is a beautiful book about love, friendship, tragedy, art. The writing style is deceptively simple. I loved the descriptions of the fire, the forest cabins and the people. I particularly liked the photographer, whose name we never learn, and the old woman from the asylum, who had a talent for interpreting Ted Boychuck’s paintings of the great Matheson fire.
One theme which didn’t interest me very much was the idea of killing yourself when you’re ready to die. Each of the old men in the forest had some strychnine in hand because they wanted to be free to choose their time. I don’t think of that as freedom, but perhaps I’m still too young and healthy.
The ending of the book is somewhat up in the air, though you can guess at a happy ending for the photographer. I love the way she meets the man on the bench in the same place she has seen Angie Polson. And the image of the 2 old lovers watching cars go by from their home is touching. My favourite themes were that it’s never too late to live a life and that life and love can surprise you at any moment.
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