The lamp is lit. And as Stephen carried it to the table, my father came out on the staircase. His old plaid travelling-rug was wrapped round his shoulders—he had come from the gatehouse along the top of the castle walls. He murmured: “Tea, tea—has Miss Marcy come with the library books yet?” (She hasn’t.) Then he said his hands were quite numb; not complainingly, more in a tone of faint surprise—though I find it hard to believe that anyone living at the castle in winter can be surprised at any part of themselves being numb. And as he came downstairs shaking the rain off his hair, I suddenly felt so fond of him. I fear I don’t feel that very often. We both prayed hard, Rose the much longest — she was still on her knees when I had settled down ready to sleep. “That’ll do, Rose,” I said at last. “It’s enough just to mention things, you know. Long prayers are like nagging.” This book has one of the most charismatic narrators I've ever met. Seventeen-year-old Cassandra Mortmain captures the castle in her insightful, witty journal entries.” —Harry Potter author J. K. Rowling This is not even my sometimes-bias against romance showing. (Except okay maybe it is a little bit.) But in this book we go from a quirky ragtag family living in a dilapidated CASTLE in the English COUNTRYSIDE to...unrequited love. And sisterly hate. And family separation. And heartbreak and betrayal and sorrow and a whole lot of other things.

Through Cassandra’s sharply funny, yet poignant, journal entries, she chronicles the great changes that take place within the castle’s walls, and her own first descent into love. By the time she pens her final entry, she has “captured the castle” – and the heart of the reader – in one of literature’s most enchanting novels. Summers, Sue (6 April 2003). "Her castle was her home". The Guardian. ISSN 0029-7712 . Retrieved 17 February 2023. The originators among writers--perhaps, in a sense, the only true creators--dip deep and bring up one perfect work; complete, not a link in a chain."

The cover is gorgeous. It looks pretty good in my bookcase, but after reading it, I'm not sure whether it still has a place there. The descriptions of the countryside are quaint, and I liked the atmosphere created by Smith in regards to the castle. I felt like I was really walking around it, breathing in it's ancient scent.

I shouldn't think even millionaires could eat anything nicer than new bread and real butter and honey for tea. It is into this hopeless, bohemian world that Simon and Neil Cotton arrive. They are the inheritors of Scoatney Hall, whose owner had given Mr. Mortmain Godsend Castle on a forty-year lease. Simon Cotton, a well-read intellectual, is fascinated by England and also by James Mottmain, who is still famous in America; later on, also by Rose. Neil is American through-and–through and can’t wait to get out of England. When Simon falls for Rose and gets engaged to her, he is very angry as he considers her a gold-digger. To complicate matters, Cassandra also falls for Simon. And there is James, getting more eccentric every day, and practically running after Mrs. Cotton, Simon and Neil’s mother, to the chagrin of Topaz. Aubrey Fox-Cotton, a distant cousin of the Cottons and a famous architect, who can’t get enough of Topaz and Leda, his photographer wife who lusts after Stephen, complete the cast of characters and add spice to the plot. At their first meeting the Cottons are amused and interested by the Mortmains. When they pay a call the very next day, however, the inexperienced Rose flirts openly with Simon and makes herself look ridiculous. Both brothers are repelled by this display and, as they walk away, Cassandra overhears them resolving to drop all acquaintance with the Mortmains. After an amusing episode involving a fur coat, however, all is forgiven and the two families become good friends. Rose decides that she really is taken with Simon, and Cassandra and Topaz scheme to get Simon to propose to her. Simon falls in love with Rose and proposes to her.

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Now Rose is sitting on the fender, waiting for her iron to heat. She is staring at Topaz with a discontented expression. I can often tell what Rose is thinking and I would take a bet that she is envying the orange tea-gown and hating her own skimpy old blouse and skirt. Poor Rose hates most things she has and envies most things she hasn’t. I really am just as discontented, but I don’t seem to notice it so much. I feel quite unreasonably happy this minute, watching them both; knowing I can go and join them in the warmth, yet staying here in the cold. Obligingly, Rose convinces herself that she is love with the eldest of the brothers, Simon, and sets about wooing him; eventually, he proposes and showers wealth down on the Mortmain family. Stephen is lighting the lamp. In a second now, the rosy glow will have gone from the kitchen. But lamplight is beautiful, too. The story is so charming! I especially like how the main character, Cassandra, appreciated food because of her poverty. Favorites: What to say, what to say? Hard to put down all the feelings. To put it simply: you did everything right. The characterization like flowers slowly blooming. The story like seasons changing, invisibly but inevitably. The romance made both heartfelt and utterly, often infuriatingly real. The details, oh the details! I was put right into this world and right into Cassandra's head. And the charm! You are such a charming book - so amusing and so sweet-tempered yet with a certain saltiness as well, and a sharp tang. Head in the clouds; feet firmly planted on earth. You are a love letter to the past and to writing and to what makes a home and to young people with all of their future ahead of them and older people who have all of their future ahead of them. You are a love letter to love! I fell in love with you in turn. I would change nothing about you.