I waited weeks, months, years, to get my hands on a copy of Cold Mountain by Charles Frazier. I savoured every word, every phrase, every sentence. I relished each simile and metaphor–they were as southern as biscuits and gravy. I fell in love with Inman and admired Ada and Ruby. I counted the seconds until I would be home each evening so I could bury my nose in this tale. I dreamt of Inman’s journey and Ada and Ruby’s struggles on the farm.

Then I got to the end. And I felt confused. And disappointed.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s