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From the Publisher

Howard Frank Mosher praises book's wisdom and craftsmanship

Editorial Reviews

Review

" A superb book. . . . Nothing in these lives is lost or wasted, suffering becomes an enriching benediction, and life itself a luminous experience." -- Doris Grumbach

"A superb book. . . . Nothing in these lives is lost or wasted, suffering becomes an enriching benediction, and life itself a luminous experience."--Doris Grumbach

From the Inside Flap

Called a ?magnificently crafted story . . . brimming with wisdom? by Howard Frank Mosher in The Washington Post Book World, Crossing to Safety has, since its publication in 1987, established itself as one of the greatest and most cherished American novels of the twentieth century. Tracing the lives, loves, and aspirations of two couples who move between Vermont and Wisconsin, it is a work of quiet majesty, deep compassion, and powerful insight into the alchemy of friendship and marriage.

From the Back Cover

Called a "magnificently crafted story . . . brimming with wisdom" by Howard Frank Mosher in "The Washington Post Book World, "Crossing to Safety has, since its publication in 1987, established itself as one of the greatest and most cherished American novels of the twentieth century. Tracing the lives, loves, and aspirations of two couples who move between Vermont and Wisconsin, it is a work of quiet majesty, deep compassion, and powerful insight into the alchemy of friendship and marriage.

About the Author

Terry Tempest Williams is the author of many books, including Refuge: An Unnatural History of Family and Place; Red: Passion and Patience in the Desert; and Finding Beauty in a Broken World. A recipient of a Guggenheim Fellowship and a Lannan Literary Fellowship in creative nonfiction, she lives in southern Utah.

T. H. Watkins (1936–2000) was the first Wallace Stegner Distinguished Professor of Western American Studies at Montana State University, and was the author of twenty-eight books.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Chapter 1

Floating upward through a confusion of dreams and memory, curving like a trout through the rings of previous risings, I surface. My eyes open. I am awake.

Cataract sufferers must see like this when the bandages are removed after the operation: every detail as sharp as if seen for the first time, yet familiar too, known from before the time of blindness, the remembered and the seen coalescing as in a stereoscope.

It is obviously very early. The light is no more than dusk that leaks past the edges of the blinds. But I see, or remember, or both, the uncurtained windows, the bare rafters, the board walls with nothing on them except a calendar that I think was here the last time we were, eight years ago.

What used to be aggressively spartan is shabby now. Nothing has been refreshed or added since Charity and Sid turned the compound over to the children. I should feel as if I were waking up in some Ma-and-Pa motel in hard-times country, but I don’t. I have spent too many good days and nights in this cottage to be depressed by it.

There is even, as my eyes make better use of the dusk and I lift my head off the pillow to look around, something marvelously reassuring about the room, a warmth even in the gloom. Associations, probably, but also color. The unfinished pine of the walls and ceilings has mellowed, over the years, to a rich honey color, as if stained by the warmth of the people who built it into a shelter for their friends. I take it as an omen; and though I remind myself why we are here, I can’t shake the sense of loved familiarity into which I just awoke.

The air is as familiar as the room. Standard summer-cottage taint of mice, plus a faint, not-unpleasant remembrance of skunks under the house, but around and through those a keenness as of seven thousand feet. Illusion, of course. What smells like altitude is latitude. Canada is only a dozen miles north, and the ice sheet that left its tracks all over this region has not gone for good, but only withdrawn. Something in the air, even in August, says it will be back.

In fact, if you could forget mortality, and that used to be easier here than in most places, you could really believe that time is circular, and not linear and progressive as our culture is bent on proving. Seen in geological perspective, we are fossils in the making, to be buried and eventually exposed again for the puzzlement of creatures of later eras. Seen in either geological or biological terms, we don’t warrant attention as individuals. One of us doesn’t differ that much from another, each generation repeats its parents, the works we build to outlast us are not much more enduring than anthills, and much less so than coral reefs. Here everything returns upon itself, repeats and renews itself, and present can hardly be told from past.

Sally is still sleeping. I slide out of bed and go barefooted across the cold wooden floor. The calendar, as I pass it, insists that it is not the one I remember. It says, accurately, that it is 1972, and that the month is August.

The door creaks as I ease it open. Keen air, gray light, gray lake below, gray sky through the hemlocks whose tops reach well above the porch. More than once, in summers past, Sid and I cut down some of those weedlike trees to let more light into the guest cottage. All we did was destroy some individuals, we never discouraged the species. The hemlocks like this steep shore. Like other species, they hang on to their territory.

I come back in and get my clothes off a chair, the same clothes I wore from New Mexico, and dress. Sally sleeps on, used up by the long flight and the five-hour drive up from Boston. Too hard a day for her, but she wouldn’t hear of breaking the trip. Having been summoned, she would come.

For a minute I stand listening to her breathing, wondering if I dare go out and leave her. But she is deeply asleep, and should stay that way for a while. No one is going to be coming around at this hour. This early piece of the morning is mine. Tiptoeing, I go out onto the porch and stand exposed to what, for all my senses can tell me, might as well be 1938 as 1972.

No one is up in the Lang compound. No lights through the trees, no smell of kindling smoke on the air. I go out the spongy woods path past the woodshed and into the road, and there I meet the sky, faintly brightening in the east, and the morning star as steady as a lamp. Down under the hemlocks I thought it overcast, but out here I see the bowl of the sky pale and spotless.

My feet take me up the road to the gate, and through it. Just inside the gate the road forks. I ignore the Ridge House road and choose instead the narrow dirt road that climbs around the hill to the right. John Wightman, whose cottage sits at the end of it, died fifteen years ago. He will not be up to protest my walking in his ruts. It is a road I have walked hundreds of times, a lovely lost tunnel through the trees, busy this morning with birds and little shy rustling things, my favorite road anywhere.

Dew has soaked everything. I could wash my hands in the ferns, and when I pick a leaf off a maple branch I get a shower on my head and shoulders. Through the hardwoods along the foot of the hill, through the belt of cedars where the ground is swampy with springs, through the spruce and balsam of the steep pitch, I go alertly, feasting my eyes. I see coon tracks, an adult and two young, in the mud, and maturing grasses bent like croquet wickets with wet, and spotted orange Amanitas, at this season flattened or even concave and holding water, and miniature forests of club moss and ground pine and ground cedar. There are brown caves of shelter, mouse and hare country, under the wide skirts of spruce.

My feet are wet. Off in the woods I hear a Peabody bird tentatively try out a song he seems to have half forgotten. I look to the left, up the slope of the hill, to see if I can catch a glimpse of Ridge House, but see only trees.

Then I come out on the shoulder of the hill, and there is the whole sky, immense and full of light that has drowned the stars. Its edges are piled with hills. Over Stannard Mountain the air is hot gold, and as I watch, the sun surges up over the crest and stares me down.

We didn’t come back to Battell Pond this time for pleasure. We came out of affection and family solidarity, as adopted members of the clan, and because we were asked for and expected. But I can’t feel somber now, any more than I could when I awoke in the shabby old guest cottage. Quite the reverse. I wonder if I have ever felt more alive, more competent in my mind and more at ease with myself and my world, than I feel for a few minutes on the shoulder of that known hill while I watch the sun climb powerfully and confidently and see below me the unchanged village, the lake like a pool of mercury, the varying greens of hayfields and meadows and sugarbush and black spruce woods, all of it lifting and warming as the stretched shadows shorten.

There it was, there it is, the place where during the best time of our lives friendship had its home and happiness its headquarters.

When I come in I find Sally sitting up, the blind closest to the bed—the one she can reach—raised to let a streak of sun into the room. She is drinking a cup of coffee from the thermos and eating a banana from the fruit basket that Hallie left when she put us to bed last night.

“Not breakfast,” Hallie said. “Just hazari. We’ll come and get you for brunch, but we won’t come too early. You’ll be tired and off your clock. So sleep in, and we’ll come and get you about ten. After brunch we’ ll go up and see Mom, and later in the afternoon she’s planned a picnic on Folsom Hill.”

“A picnic?” Sally said. “Is she well enough to go on a picnic? If she’s doing it for us, she shouldn’t.”

“That’s the way she’s arranged it,” Hallie said. “She said you’d be tired, and to let you rest, and if she says you’ll be tired, you might as well be tired. If she plans a picnic, you’d better want a picnic. No, she’ll be all right. She saves her strength for the things that matter to her. She wants it like old times.”

I let up the other two blinds and lighten the dim room. “Where’d you go?” Sally asks.

“Up the old Wightman road.”

I pour myself coffee and sit down in the wicker chair that I remember as part of the furniture of the Ark. From the bed Sally watches me. “How was it?”

“Beautiful. Quiet. Good earthy smells. It hasn’t changed.”

“I wish I could have been along.”

“I’ll take you up later in the car.”

“No, we’ll be going up to the picnic, that’s enough.” She sips her coffee, watching me over the rim of the cup. “Isn’t it typical? At death’s door, and she wants it like old times, and orders everybody to make it that way. And worries about us being tired. Ah, she’s going to leave a hole! There’s been a hole, ever since we. . . . Did you feel any absences?”

“No absences. Presences.”

“I’m glad. I can’ t imagine this place without them in it. Both of them.”

Product details

Publisher ‏ : ‎ Modern Library
Publication date ‏ : ‎ April 9, 2002
Edition ‏ : ‎ Reprint
Language ‏ : ‎ English
Print length ‏ : ‎ 335 pages
ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 037575931X
ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-0375759314
Item Weight ‏ : ‎ 9.6 ounces
Dimensions ‏ : ‎ 5.17 x 0.79 x 7.99 inches
Best Sellers Rank: #18,792 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #327 in Classic Literature & Fiction
- #908 in Women's Domestic Life Fiction
- #921 in Literary Fiction (Books)
Customer Reviews:
(5,696)

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Jane Smiley
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Jane Smiley (born September 26, 1949) is an American novelist. She won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction in 1992 for her novel A Thousand Acres (1991). Born in Los Angeles, California, Smiley grew up in Webster Groves, Missouri, a suburb of St. Louis, and graduated from Community School and from John Burroughs School. She obtained a BA in literature at Vassar College (1971), then earned an MA (1975), MFA (1976), and PhD (1978) from the University of Iowa. While working towards her doctorate, she also spent a year studying in Iceland as a Fulbright Scholar. From 1981 to 1996 she was a Professor of English at Iowa State University, teaching undergraduate and graduate creative writing workshops, and continuing to teach there even after relocating to California.
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Terry Tempest Williams
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She is the award-winning author of Leap, An Unspoken Hunger, Refuge & most recently Red - A Desert Reader. She lives in Castle Valley, Utah.
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Wallace Stegner
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Wallace Earle Stegner (February 18, 1909 – April 13, 1993) was an American novelist, short story writer, environmentalist, and historian, often called "The Dean of Western Writers". He won the Pulitzer Prize in 1972 and the U.S. National Book Award in 1977.
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Customers say

Customers find this book deeply moving and thought-provoking, praising its beautifully written prose and masterful storytelling about two couples. The characters are richly drawn, and customers describe it as a wrenching emotional experience that makes compelling reading. They appreciate the writing quality, with one customer noting it as a truly American voice in literature.

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337 customers mention content, 323 positive, 14 negative

Customers find the book engaging and enjoyable, describing it as a must-read and a wonderful book about friendship, with one customer highlighting its themes of love of learning and nature.

This is such a wonderful book. I am embarrassed that this is my first Stegner book. But, it will certainly not be my last....Read more

I am so glad I came across this novel, what a great read. Although "dated", still a story that anyone could relate to and enjoy....Read more

This is a great book, beautifully written. Wallace Stegner's use of the english language is admirable. Interestingly written in memoir style....Read more

Wonderful, poignant, lyrical survey of the life journey of two couples. Many profound passages that illuminate the human condition....Read more

241 customers mention writing style, 233 positive, 8 negative

Customers praise the writing style of the book, describing it as beautifully written prose that is a joy to read and almost like poetry.

This book is so beautifully written ... I felt as if I were being transported down a lovely flowing stream - lost in another world - while reading it...Read more

I found it well written. Glad for my Kindle Paper White so I could access the dictionary. Stegner has a tendency to use some pretty obscure words.Read more

...never gets dull, as Stegner is a masterful storyteller and a beautiful writer.Read more

What a pleasure to read! Very well written and entertaining. The character development was intriguing and the use of language nicely done.Read more

149 customers mention story, 122 positive, 27 negative

Customers praise the book's narrative, describing it as wonderfully rich and beautifully written about relationships, with one customer noting its absorbing portrayal of two couples.

Lovely story, beatifully written, I can't believe I hadn't found this writer years ago....Read more

No adrenaline rush, sex or mystery to draw me to the end. Just a beautiful story about flawed people growing together in love and in spite of their...Read more

...It never gets dull, as Stegner is a masterful storyteller and a beautiful writer.Read more

...I started it late, but finished it quickly. Great story about a genuine friendship between two couples...from newly married to senior status....Read more

118 customers mention character, 106 positive, 12 negative

Customers appreciate the characters in the book, describing them as rich and human, with one customer noting how easy it is to relate to the storyline.

This book is beautifully written, with great character development, but at times it went beyond my depth of literary knowledge....Read more

This was well written and a very good story. Interesting characters and well developed tale. I would recommend it highly.Read more

The characters were interesting.Read more

...The strong character development is a hallmark for Stegner's story....Read more

65 customers mention emotional, 55 positive, 10 negative

Customers find the book deeply emotional, describing it as a poignant and wrenching experience that portrays great happiness, with one customer noting its elegiac rather than tragic tone.

Very realistic portrayal of marriage, academia, friendship, and life. Poignant and moving. Characters so real, you felt like they were your family.Read more

...This is simply beautiful. The writing is sensitive and evocative....Read more

Simple but poignant story of the connected lives of two couples searching for happiness and meaning ... the husbands sharing the struggle for...Read more

...Do not miss this very touching book.Read more

57 customers mention engaging, 47 positive, 10 negative

Customers find the book engaging and compelling, describing it as mesmerizing and entertaining to read.

...I doesn't have a riveting plot, but is interesting and well written to keep you going back until it is ended.Read more

Enjoyable. I just happen to like Mr. Stegner's style of writing. I prefer his historical genre's however.Read more

Excellent characters. Slightly unbelievable storyline but still engrossing. Wanted to get to know them all....Read more

I loved this book. So well written and engaging. I understand why its a classic. The caracters are so interesting and well deveoped.Read more

40 customers mention writing quality, 40 positive, 0 negative

Customers praise the writing quality of the book, describing the author as an extraordinary and celebrated writer.

Excellent author, couldn't put it down. Beautifully written. Highly recommend his book "Angle of Repose"....Read more

...I loved this book. What a gifted writer.Read more

Have just discovered this wonderful author and read several books in a row. A not to be missed experience.Read more

Stegner is an amazing writer. His description of place is vivid, but it is his deep understanding of life that speaks the loudest....Read more

33 customers mention thought-provoking, 33 positive, 0 negative

Customers find the book thought-provoking and awe-inspiring, appreciating its deep humanity and wisdom that nourishes the soul.

It’s a quiet book — too slow for many readers, but meditative, thoughtful, & lyrical — a summing-up of two couples’ lives in the middle of the 20c....Read more

...Compassion, trust and devotion for each other as life changes and turns. A love story of friendship.Read more

This is a thought provoking book. Very well writtenRead more

...It is a thoughtful book that produced one of the most interesting and deep discussions at our monthly book club....Read more

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Marie-Jo Fortis
Awakenings
Reviewed in the United States on November 18, 2010
Format: PaperbackVerified Purchase

Right away I am seduced by the prose. That first Stegner page about waking up is absolutely superb. "Floating upward through a confusion of dreams and memory, curving like a trout through the rings of previous risings, I surface. My eyes open. I am awake."

These first sentences could be cut into lines and begin a beautiful poem. Here, they serve as a marvelous synopsis of the novel. For it is very much a novel of awakenings. Psychological awakenings. And ironically, some of these awakenings are about dying and what death means to the survivors. For after someone we love passes away we die a little, and we must learn to live again, as opposed to floating "through a confusion of dreams and memory." Our eyes must open again. We must wake up.

And that is how Stegner's Crossing to Safety engages the reader. There is no murder, no explosion, no illicit love affair. Nothing happens. Nothing happens but the magnificent prose. At least on the surface.

Well, guess what? Can't judge a book by its cover. Can't judge a prose by just the surface, either. For apparently nothing happens, but it's all there. First, friendship between two couples with different professional aspirations and different tempers. Then, what the narrator names "the snake" that introduces itself into this paradisiac world of mutual love. Charity, dissatisfied with the lack of ambition of her husband, is a strong, controlling woman, who must have things done her way. But is she the snake? Sally, the narrator's wife, catches polio while the four friends are on a hiking trip, and will never recover the use of her legs. Is that tragedy the snake? Or is it the weakness of Sid, Charity's husband? And what about Larry, the narrator, who can be so judgmental at times?

And so come the awakenings. Realizing that the imperfections of friends are just mirrors; here lies the snake. Not in facing the mirror and really looking, but in refusing to do so. For what appear to be the toughest characters, Larry and Charity, are really masters of denial, while gentle creatures like Sally and Sid are about self-acceptance, and thus stronger than their more flamboyant counterparts. Charity's ultimate cruelty of not allowing her husband to accompany her to the place where she will spend her last living days will eventually play against her. She sees that cruelty as a form of protection; she thinks she will spare her fragile husband. Delusion, delusion. She just doubles, deepens the wound. She's not as tough as she thinks. And if she knows cancer will not spare her, death is something she cannot control. Control, too, is delusional. Charity (what a wonderfully ironic name) ultimately loses it, that control; she loses it in the last moments of her life. And that is her redemption.

Larry's is similar. When Sid disappears, Larry goes on a search to find his friend and is unsuccessful --not something he's used to in his professional life. But the ending, with one simple word of affirmation -- I originally made a typo and wrote "one simple world of affirmation," but it is appropriate also -- says it all. A simple word that brought me to tears. And I don't cry easily.

I was deeply, deeply moved by this masterpiece. I had never read Wallace Stegner before, but I plan to get to know this author better by reading his short stories. To you lovers of literature out there, to you who love words, and worlds in words, I cannot recommend this book enough.

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Carrielyn D. Guymon
slow and steady
Reviewed in the United States on February 28, 2025
Format: KindleVerified Purchase
Very realistic portrayal of marriage, academia, friendship, and life. Poignant and moving. Characters so real, you felt like they were your family.

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2 people found this helpful

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Judith E. Petersen
Beautifully written
Reviewed in the United States on September 16, 2013
Format: KindleVerified Purchase
“Talent lies around in us like kindling waiting for a match, but some people, just as gifted as others, are less lucky. Fate never drops a match on them.” What a joy it was to read Wallace Stegner who chronicles two couples and reveals each in his/her strengths and weakness. Magically, he does so with glorious sentences and the one above. His poetic, thoughtful prose compliments his readers’ intelligence and joy of reading.

The Langs and Morgans were an unlikely pairing. Opposites and contrast abound throughout the novel. The Langs, wealthy privileged easterners, products and producers of large extended families, seemingly have it all. They are adventurous, intelligent, and healthy. In contrast, the Morgans come out of the west from nothing—no money nor families, prone to difficult childbearing and diseases. Yet, these two couples form life-long bonds that survive (although not always so strongly) for their entire adult lives. In some ways, it would seem that the Langs gave more to the Morgans than visa versa. Charity’s exuberance to Sally’s gentle ways; Sid’s worldliness to Larry’s naive world view. But this is a story of the strength of a fired professor and his polio-ravished wife and their ability to overcome.

Stegner could have devoted much more time to the “others” in the story: professors and wives, children and other relatives, but the essence of his novel was the Langs and the Morgans. As the novel opens, we know that Charity is dying and doing so in her own way. “Isn’t it typical? At death’s door and she wants it like old times, and orders everybody to make it that way. And worries about us being tired. Ah, she’s going to leave a hole.” And perhaps the “meta-essence” is Charity. Her personality drives those around her, and in that drive we see both the positive and negative effects. She decides that they will be friends; she decides that the Morgans will be assisted when times are tough. She wills the polio stricken Sally to live.

Sally: “Except for Charity, I wouldn’t be alive. I wouldn’t have wanted to be.”
Larry: “I know.”

Sally and Charity bond immediately. Yet, Larry is not so enchanted with Charity. The two often spar, much to Sally dismay. Sally often defends Charity. Likewise, Larry bonds with Sid, becoming his champion. It seems to me that Larry understands the price that Sid pays to his determined wife. Sid never measured up to Charity’s father; couple that with never measuring up to his own father: “My most vivid memory of my father is the total incomprehension—the contempt—in his face when I told him I wanted to major in English literature at Yale.”

In the story as Larry interprets it, we see Charity becoming more dogmatic from the “compass” for their camping adventure to Sid’s career. “Charity’s family are all professors. She likes being part of a university. She wants us to get promoted, and stay.”
Her vision of how things should be (and how Sid should be) grows more rigid over the years. There is no room for personality, desire, or hope different from Charity’s vision. As ulta-generous and loving as she is to the Morgans, especially to Sally, her charity does not extend to Sid. To Charity (and probably to his father), Sid is a disappointment, too emotionally driven like the poet he wants to be.

For me, the ultimate cruelty was Charity’s exclusion of Sid in her dying “plans.” As the widow of a cancer victim, I do not believe I could have recovered if my husband had banned me from his side. We nearly made it to 25 years, not quite. Langs more than likely were 40 or more. The role of spouse/care giver is difficult. Often, I felt I could never say the “right” thing: if I tried to be cheerful, I was told that I didn’t understand the fatality of the situation. If I was down, I was told that I wasn’t helping to be positive. Do I blame him? Absolutely, not. His burden was far heavier than mine. It was merely difficult to provide the comfort needed at the moment. In the end, we understood that our love, as human as it may have been, was true and strong. To have been excluded from his bedside would have been emotionally and spiritually fatal to me. I was often the emotional one to his reserve as Sid was to Charity. I call that balance.

Charity’s expectations and determination were not totally unexpected. Stegner masterfully developed each character making their flaws and strengths human and real. I may have been disappointed in a character’s choice, but each time those choices stayed real. Crossing to Safety was a joy to read.

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Steve De Pangher
A delightful sruprise
Reviewed in the United States on March 28, 2026
Format: KindleVerified Purchase
I read this novel on a lark and am so glad I did. As many have said, Stegner is a magnificent writer. Beyond this, he has managed to make a page-turning plot by analyzing and describing the emotions of, the emotions in, the fear and glory of friendship. Very moving and well-worth reading.

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Lynne M Sheridan
There aren’t enough stars
Reviewed in Canada on May 21, 2020
Format: KindleVerified Purchase

This book may be the finest book I have ever read. The author is brilliant and insightful. Worthy of reading every ten years or so. Perspective of age would only add value to the quality of the read.

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Lyn Williams
This is my favourite book. The last book written by this author
Reviewed in Australia on September 4, 2015
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This is my favourite book. The last book written by this author, who had previously won the Nobel Prize for Literature, and his best. Beautifully written, perfectly drawn characters and evoked time and place brilliantly - you just felt you were a part of the book. An absolute joy to read.

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thewomanintheattic
Love at second sight
Reviewed in Germany on August 15, 2021
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Wallace Stegner’s ‚Crossing To Safety‘ has been on my reading list for so long that I can’t remember how I found it. As it is often the case with such relics, I didn’t really want to read it anymore, and the beginning was slow enough to think that I was right.
The story is about two couples who meet for the first time in the 1930s. Larry and Sid, the men, are both immersed in starting a career at the University of Wisconsin in Madison, and Sally and Charity, the women, are both pregnant. So far, so good, so potentially boring. The book has a tone that reminded me half of Steinbeck, half of Hemingway, although I couldn’t really argue against any other takes.
It took quite a while until I could lose myself inside their stories, their characters, their conflicts. They are all not particularly extraordinary (except for Charity?), but there’s a profound humanity in the way Larry reminisces about those four lives that are so deeply entwined.
It might not have been love at first sight, but what came late will probably last for a long time.

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Gina
Needed an editor
Reviewed in France on June 24, 2025
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An interesting read, but it was in bad need of an editor! Random sentences (p. 17 - "She'll have to sleep with Grandpa when she comes." for example). At least one use of "than" that should have been "then," and others that even a beginner editor should have caught.

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Eddy Young
A beautifully written book
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on December 6, 2021
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This book is about the lifelong friendship between, and the constrasting fortunes of, two men: one, unable to achieve his full potential because of blind devotion; the other, successful despite the weight of tragedies. The book is all about characters, the story only serving to open them up to us.

It took me more than two months to read this book, not because it is boring, but because it has to be savoured. This is one of the best books that I have read in a long time. It is beautifully written.

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Crossing to Safety (Modern Library Classics) Paperback – April 9, 2002

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5.0 out of 5 stars Awakenings

4.0 out of 5 stars slow and steady

5.0 out of 5 stars Beautifully written

5.0 out of 5 stars A delightful sruprise

Top reviews from other countries

5.0 out of 5 stars There aren’t enough stars

5.0 out of 5 stars This is my favourite book. The last book written by this author

5.0 out of 5 stars Love at second sight

4.0 out of 5 stars Needed an editor

5.0 out of 5 stars A beautifully written book

Awakenings

slow and steady

Beautifully written

A delightful sruprise

There aren’t enough stars

This is my favourite book. The last book written by this author

Love at second sight

Needed an editor

A beautifully written book