A very comforting, philosophical book about life’s simple pleasures, the search for God, and war trauma.
I find this book fascinating because it was written in 1938, and while it briefly discusses the horror of living through World War 1, it also seems to anticipate World War 2. Whitaker talks about Communism and Fascism, and how she is one of millions who want no part in either.
Whitaker’s meandering thoughts about life and gratitude are lovely and poignant, yet I found the undercurrent of war and uncertainty to be unsettling, especially given our political climate now.
I enjoyed this book but I think the history around it is even more interesting to read about.
A really strange collection of writings - some incredibly modern insights however most of it I was left wondering why I was reading it. Shall persevere with her short stories they may make more sense.