I chose this book because of the cover, which is stunning. The blocks of colours are reminiscent of a golden time, especially in terms of classic old books and detective novels.
Instead, I found a completely different world to what I expected. I hadn’t realised this was a story written in 1930, and didn’t realise it until after I’d given up reading. It makes a bit of sense that I struggled with the dialect, not realising it was Scottish at all. I thought it was perhaps some type of olden colonial American.
There was a cast of characters at the start, which these days is redundant because an author is expected to be able to introduce her characters well enough for them and their connections to be made obvious and remembered.
I read up to 11% (according to Kindle) and I still hadn’t found a storyline. I think a house had an extension built on it to connect it to another house and this extension was the titled ‘Weatherhouse’. I struggled with the dialogue because I couldn’t understand the dialect. Other readers will hopefully have a better time with it.
I have no idea what the above says.
Also, I was frustrated by descriptions of a tale that I couldn’t understand.
I couldn’t understand how Granny was amusing because I didn’t understand what she was saying.
There was a particular use of the adjective ‘delicious’ to describe a room, which irritated me no end. It’s probably quite a clever use of delicious to mean tastes good, that then leads on to a room decorated in ‘good taste’. Perhaps. All I could think was of someone sitting in ice cream.
What the book is about:
The women of the tiny town of Fetter-Rothnie have grown used to a life without men, and none more so than the tangle of mothers and daughters, spinsters and widows living at the Weatherhouse. Returned from war with shellshock, Garry Forbes is drawn into their circle as he struggles to build a new understanding of the world from the ruins of his grief. In The Weatherhouse Nan Shepherd paints an exquisite portrait of a community coming to terms with the brutal losses of war, and the small tragedies, yearnings and delusions that make up a life.
– I will have to try reading it again at a different pace and with further context. It certainly wasn’t for me right now.
The Weatherhouse by Nan Shepherd. Downloaded from NetGalley.