After the devastating suicide of her father, a woman goes to stay with friends in rural Italy for the summer, adjusting to the rhythm of life in the old villa as she tries to make sense of her grief.

I had a slightly rocky start with this one - initially the writing felt a little too basic and I also wasn’t actually sure who exactly our protagonist was grieving - yet it ended up being one of my top ten reads of 2022. Within 25 or so pages, and without me even realising it had happened, the writing had clicked into place and its simplicity was actually an asset. It’s a story of the mundanity of grief, its non-linear nature, of the small things that get you, the waves of guilt, of being given the time and space you need, of surrendering to doing the most basic everyday things just to keep going and hopefully eventually finding pleasure in doing them - florid writing would have been discordant. Woven throughout the grief is an ode to the beauty of long-standing friendships, the ease of just being with those who understand your depths, talking about everything and nothing. I also also now have a desperate urge to go live the slow life with my friends in Italy for a few months. A quiet, stunning novel of the mundanity of grief, the beauty of friendship and the importance of giving oneself time and finding pleasure in the small acts of everyday life.