I picked up
Heart and Soul, by Maeve Binchy, one day on impulse in Walmart. I was delighted and surprised to find a new Binchy novel out and gobbled through it in a matter of days. Like so many of Binchy's books, it was the story of a seemingly unconnected group of Dubliners whose lives become inexplicably intertwined. It's the kind of book that's so warm and charming that it makes you ashamed of complaining about anything. The characters are just so
good. And not in that cloying way that forces you to ask, "Is this for real?," but in a way that makes you want to appreciate your own life more. It goes without saying that it had a happy ending. You know, once upon a time I preferred books with unhappy endings. I thought they were more profound. Perhaps I'm maturing.
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