Thirteen Moons by Charles Frazier

First off, let me began by saying that I read Cold Mountain twice. I remember in great detail laying in bed while I lived on Sutherland Dr., recuperating from a D&C and reading the book in one long drink, and crying out loud, sobbing at the enc.

As with Cold Mountain, I did not want Thirteen Moons to end.

A magical book, but I read it in one long week. I found the book in the Goodwill on Madison, the clerk was putting up all the books from those large canvas carriers that I love so dearly. He allowed me to dive in and wade among the books he had yet to shelve and there it was!

I grabbed it and clutched it to my breast and knew that I had a book that was going to be a treasure if remotely akin to CM.

And was it? It was like magic. I could not rip through the pages as I am prone to doing. I did not skip, skim or grow bored at any time of the week's read. Last evening as the last pages loomed ahead of me, I laid down the book and thought, "I'll finish it in the morning..."

I loved it. Magic on the pages.