I’ve all ready done a quick post on this book by Iva Ibbotson, ages ago. I’m re-reading it again. This has to be one of my favorite books ever. EVER.
P.S. While re-reading Wuthering Heights, yet again I fail to see the amazing love story that has entrapped many avid readers over time… all I can find is some seriously depressed, self-harming nineteenth century people lost in the moores… Am I just unable to see the profound amazingness in this book that everyone else sees? I mean, parts are really good, but come on!