This is a beautiful book, written by a poet and you can tell, from the lyrical quality of her writing to the timing of the ebb and flow of the stories she is pulling on for this narrative. I procrastinated about starting the book knowing it touched on grief and the loss of a child, eventually picking it up to read in small doses over Christmas, but I did not need to. The heart of the book is a story of how the author has withstood the loss of her daughter by allowing all peripheral matters to burn off while discovering and holding on to the essence of herself, her motherhood and her daughter, drawing on deep attachments to where she lives and the history of other people who have lived there over millennia. The result, for me as a reader, was a journey through Time and emotion, not with searing force but with the kind of stillness and perspective I can get from being outside, walking through woodland, watching the sea on a beach. It is not least among this book's achievements that it conveys a kind of beautiful perspective while keeping its feet firmly in the ordinary details of grief lived on a daily basis. The author manages that feat of making the ordinary extraordinary, of showing the reader the minute detail and also opening our eyes to the vast sweep and pattern of Time that has come before us. In the end, I read the book in great gulps over the course of a busy week. It is beautiful and you should read it.