Perhaps there is something elemental about their attraction; about playing Adam and Eve—to borrow from Bob Dylan—around the forests and winter ravages of Frontier-era North America. That indefinable thing that makes love so hard to describe, even more to write and conceptualise it in the wholly convincing way that this book has. Whatever that ingredient is Barry has surely captured it, and as with all other aspects of his writing I can’t quite put my finger on what he has done. All I know is that whatever the mechanics of his storytelling, he makes me care about these lovers and want to lose myself in their adventures.
The Heart In Winter is published by Canongate
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