This is the one and only book that I read for a book club in my whole life, so it was the subject of the one and only book club discussion group I ever took part in.
And I was sitting in this very nice drawing room with a bunch of women in the suburbs and the entire conversation consisted of how the mother in this book didn't seem to get very upset when her babies died and they couldn't understand that.
It was as if, despite having just read the book, they pictured her as them and thought she should have cried more or something - just like they'd have done.
He seemed like a nice guy and told a good story, but after a while, the litany of miseries overwhelmed any of the literary merit.
But at least he lived through it - many of his siblings didn't.
I didn't read 'Tis' or the next one.