This last book of the Lewis Trilogy was enjoyable, if rather dark, and the descriptions were beautiful as usual. However, I grow tired of the author’s writing style, which includes long descriptions and whole chapters about the past to explain the present. I just want the author to get on with the action. …(see last paragraph for contradiction to this thinking.) I skipped over many descriptions, regardless of how beautiful they were. I wanted to know who had murdered the person in the sunken plane, and was not very interested in the beauty of the landscape.
It’s a pity that Fin’s close childhood friends, Whistler and Donald were murdererd, and that I’ll never know if Fin and Marsaili will rekindle their youthful love. One very nice thing about the book is the vividness with which it describes shared childhoods and former loves. It makes me feel the importance of human connection to a meaningful life.
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