The main problem I had with this book was the blurb on front and back. It is a meticulously-researched and thoughtful fictionalisation of the life of Henry Lyte, who translated a book on herbs in the 16th century. At the start of the book, he has just married his second wife, and brings her from London to live on his remote estate where he is establishing an unconventional garden. The garden and his potentially useful translation are his obsessions. Years pass, children are born and die, the book makes slow progress.
From the blurb, I got the impression ("All seasons pass, and what lasts is love.") that the book would be about his tricky relationship with his wife, her concerns over the death of her predecessor, and the danger that his obsession with plants would ruin his human relationships. This is not really accurate, and my warped expectations seriously impeded my ability to accept the book (and the Lytes' marriage) on their own terms. Their apparent inability to talk to each other, while leading to a moving scene after the death of their son, grated, as did the lack of real empathy by anyone including the author for the wife. Most of the book is about the progress of plants, and Henry's thoughtful but not always scintillating ponderings on life in the countryside.
The prose is lyrical and evocative, but the main characters tend to talk in the same style, which is a bit annoying.