I’ve been rereading one of my favorite books, Thornyhold by Mary Stewart. It’s a sweet love story of a lonely girl grown to womanhood in England in the first half of the twentieth century, who through the auspices of her aunt – a woman of “power”, finds a place to put down roots and a man with whom to share her life and build a family.
I pull this book off my shelf about once a year, and every time I do I wonder why exactly it draws me back over and over. Maybe because it is sweet and simple. Maybe because the idea of “the sight” and “witchcraft” intrigue me. Maybe because it is reassuring to think that ordinary people can find true happiness leading ordinary lives. Maybe it is simply a case that Ms. Stewart has a knack for crafting a story that touches basic human elements in me.