This book is a warm blanket, a crackling fireplace, a morning or post-nap haze, a snowbound evening. It unwinds like spools of wool. It is aloof in moments, keeping its secrets. It is multiple manuscripts, merged, mixed, knitted together. It's hard to really summarize or describe. You lose yourself in places and you'll want to come back to it. I have a hard time going back to reread books but this is one I think I could.