I either like really recent historical fiction or way way in the past. Donoghue writes a quiet yet tense story about monks trying to establish a church on a rocky, uninhabited island in 9th c Ireland.
While the language wasn‘t as beautiful as Groff‘s Matrix, I loved these monks struggling against the harsh, barren conditions. She also showed each man struggling internally with his vows to God and the church and with the crazy father leading them.
and dances with the daffodils.“
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