From the review in the Spectator-: 'It is a novel about confronting grievous loss, and the horror of realising, as history closes over you, that you will never be understood.' This is what resonated to me and I highlighted in my journal. We will all be consigned to history's vault, who will ever really know how much small objects and words and letters meant to us? It is so poignantly put as Ruth departs from this story.
One of the hardest things I have ever had to do in my life was finalise moving all the items out of my parents home after my dad needed to go into high care. It was like trying to dismantle someones life. What to keep and what to send on. So heartbreaking, someones life laid out. But what I thought was meaningless was precious to dad.
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