I almost have had to stop reading this book. Beautifully written, but relentlessly depressing and detailed about a child dying. In these covid times, I am unsure how this book can either enlighten, sustain interest or entertain. As a mother, I can imagine only too vividly the visceral grief one might experience on the death of a child, but I'm unsure I want to read about it at depth, over and over and from different perspectives. Also, mortality of children was common in those days, so I am unsure one can apply the same sense of grief and loss as one would now and compare those sentiments historically. Most of Agnes's townsfolk would have lost children, so the intensity of the narrative just doesn't seem accurate to me. Also, very little in terms of plot, storyline and much going on? A piece of poetry, but a dreary and upsetting read for me. Sorry.