I've never read anything like this book. It defies genres and is more poetry than prose, every paragraph full of rich meanings that you could spend a lifetime trying to chase to the end of their metaphors. It's a book where I have already dog-eared the pages with folds to take me back to paragraphs that I want to read again and again, drinking in the artistry of their expression, fumbling for the subtle glints of meaning that each image sets off. There were lines which had me exclaiming over sentences crafted so beautifully that they needed applause, each and every word as essential as in a line of Haiku. Any lover of language can't help but revel in the mastery with which Jay Griffiths (in all her books) turns a phrase with an ear of pure musicality, every word flowing deftly from the next in a perfect congruence of sound and sense. Her books are always pure pleasure to read for their language alone, but this book also has raw pain in it and insights about life that are hard to ignore. The life-story of Frida Kahlo is only the beginning. Kahlo's life forms a colourful backdrop on which to hang thoughts about all life, all loss, all freedom, all art. As any good piece of art should be, the book is specific but all-encompassing at the same time. Kahlo's life becomes a microcosm of something we all experience, all need to hear. This is a book to treasure and one that deserves to become a classic.