Schreiber

It's been very therapeutic, reading I Capture the Castle, given my situation and this fickle March weather. Smith does everything so well: loneliness and heartache and depression and desperation and guilt, and being in love in joy and in pain, and living on nothing and a ham. I started the novel sympathizing--the Mortmains' troubles were my own--but by the end I was depressed vicariously on Cassandra's behalf. Decent philosophical novel, too.
And the mist creeping over the ground, and her landscape and her characters, and how New England springs and autumns are nothing like those in the old.

Of course, being swallowed by this book joined forces with the computer crash and loosing various cables to delay my progress on anything resembling actual work...