Val McDermid delivers an ode to a lost world, ruminating on a single winter in her life as she journeys into the heart of the season's ever-evolving community-based traditions.
An odd, unexpected and quite lovely book from McDermid ... More than her memories; it is a celebration of all things cold, dark and Scottish. In short, evocative chapters McDermid slides gracefully from topic to topic ... It’s a pleasure to move with McDermid ... A memoir of her heart.
It is memoir-ish, and it did make me wish she would produce a proper memoir. There are hints here ... There is a strangeness about this book. We can all reminisce about writing our names with sparklers or sodden socks while sledging, but – however we make meaning from it – Christmas is still at the centre of the winter season. Although McDermid writes about gifts and about Christmas Day being a work day...there is nothing about Christmas as a religious celebration.
