I'm a bit late to the party with this one, and it seems rather incongruous to be reading about a place called Winter in the middle of an English Summer, but that's where the incredulity stops, as before I'd even got to the end of the first few pages, I was completely hooked on this quietly confident novel which explores the concept of family and what that means in its broadest sense.
There is real authenticity to the narrative, from the golden age of Edwardian England, to the stark, unforgiving backdrop of the Canadian wilderness, the author does a commendable job in allowing the the novel to tell its own unique story. There are no unnecessary words, no superfluous descriptions and no altered imagery, just glorious storytelling. There is much to take in: the opening scenes are brutally graphic and at first, made me wonder where the story was taking me, and so, I was ill prepared for the actual beauty of the story, and the evocative way in which Harry Cane's story is told, piece by beautiful piece.
Other reviewers far more eloquent than I have said, that words don't do this book enough justice, and I absolutely agree with that premise. It really is one of those books which should be read in glorious detail with no preconceptions, and whether you choose to read it in the heat of summer or during the frost of a bleak midwinter, just be prepared to lose track of time, because once started, you won't want it to stop until Harry's story is told.
My thanks to NetGalley and Headline / Tinder Press for my copy of A Place Called Winter.