Book group meeting last night.

Our glorious leader was unfortunately unable to make it (Mum getting a new knee which is a fair enough excuse). Just a shame that it was her book choice. _Cold Mountain_ by Charles Frazier.

Now the back of the book and other places have raved about it. R, who suggested it, has loved it.

But unfortunately none of the rest of us did. It's very 'fine' writing in a literary sense but rather a bleak story all told. I'd made up my mind about 2/3 of the way through to love the scenery and the obscure words and the descriptions - and was getting on with that. But then I got to the end. And watched the film as well for added impact.

Somehow I need more cheeriness and escapism in life! Still, I mentioned it to one friend and former colleague who I had a sneaking suspicion might like it. Turned out she'd read it and I was quite right.