I loved this book. I always enjoy Bernadette Strachan's books and this is no exception. The story is, I believe, deeper than usual however. It wasn't really about why do we have to live with men, but at what level we should stick with (any) relationship and at what point we should just up sticks and walk away. This she examines in depth with her deceptively wry, friendly humour. Deceptive in that it hides a very real and wide knowledge of English classics. ( you have delighted us all long enough my dear..).
It was on my shelf to read for a little while, but it is a measure of my respect for this author that, because I was very involved in heart and mind with a family project, that I waited until I had time to concentrate and enjoy it. I didn't want to " waste" it, and I didn't.
An artist develops over their career and Strachan is no exception. Look at the difference between Joanna Trollope's first and latest novels. I can't wait to see what happens next.
Barbara Carlile Donald