the book looked like winter, but it was an autumn story: Margaret Atwood's "Surfacing". an intense read, with a main character that doesn't make it easy to relate to her. which probably was what Atwood wanted. i just looked for some description - there seems to be a lot of essays written about it. here an overview: Atwood/Surfacing.
and interesting: the page also offers an excerpt link. after reading the book in german, i now read the first lines in the original languish: "I can't believe I am on this road again, twisting along past the lake where the white birches are dying..."
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