It’s been easier lately for me to review the books I don’t like than the ones I do, because the ones I do, it’s just love, love, love. And it’s often difficult to articulate why.
This is one of the above. I just loved the… gentleness of it. The kindness and the intelligence. The storytelling. The theology. It unfolds at its own pace and yet doesn’t get boring because the characters are so good. I wanted to dwell in this world as long as I could, and I also couldn’t put the book down; the ultimate dilemma of the reader, and the ultimate compliment to the writer. I foresee re-reading this one and its sequels and the rest of Bujold’s oeuvre many, many times.