I really wanted to like this. It had glowing recommendations from trusted sources. So I checked it out of the library again, chalking up the aborted first attempt to read to an improper frame of mind.
Unfortunately, my first opinion stands: Miss Hargreaves and her inane twittering were unbearable and do not even get me started on her poetry. I longed for Norman to have his own Emma-on-Box-Hill moment, with none of the regret.
There are too many other unread books to suffer through the irritation that is Miss Hargreaves.