A tour-de-force of poetic description, covering every detail of the (I think) 8 years of peace living in a remote rundown house somewhere between a mountain and the cliffs overlooking the ocean. Nothing happens, except, that is, for everything that happens that we never notice in the ordinary run of things. These things are all systematically described, in paragraph-sized chunks that can be read in isolation or as a narrative - although the only real narrative is the seasons as they morph one into another, or the lives of the two dogs as they age.

Masterful writing from one of Ireland's real talents (as opposed to the artificially constructed talentless talents who can't write but who get their books turned into TV series), and a surprise as her previous books were surprises. Sara Baume writes about the small things, the way the wind blows or a tin can lying in a puddle. She draws our attention to what's there, through this seven (or is it eight)-year non-saga of a young man and a young woman stepping off the treadmill, deciding never to move their clock forward or back ("house time") and keeping nothing in order. Letting everything go as it will. Dirt accumulates, rubbish piles up, clothes wear out. Let it all happen. Let it decay.

SB's writing is a pleasure to read because it's unpretentious yet highly sophisticated, displaying great expertise in the naming of plants and the lives of birds. In this book and in Adrian Duncan's "The Geometer Lobachevsky" I see a method at work that consists of systematically working through everything that is observable, and giving a fully detailed account of it, somewhat along the lines of the Oulipo School, founded by Raymond Queneau. As in the Oulipian Georges Perec's "Life: A User's Manual" there's no story as such; there's a system of writing that imposes a strict discipline on the Author, requiring (in this case) her to work her way through a number of years and during those years to give a full account of everything that (doesn't) happen. Filling in all the shading and details, to give a complete picture. For the reading that's in it. Let Sara Baume bring your restless mind to a stop in a novel that has no plot and where nothing "big" happens.

The writing was beautiful, but the story was boring. I'm on board with the quiet life, but Bell and Sigh's world was so small and uninteresting. I liked their dogs.

Not really sure how to even respond to this book. There isn't really any sort of plot, it's just an observer's description of two people living a fairly slovenly life in a remote house. The descriptions of the physical surroundings were often lyrical and beautiful, but overall, the story was dull and plodding.

Meditative and, I think, allegorical. The devotion of the couple, which does not want by exposure, is powerful and very very understated.

The writing is some of the best out of Ireland these days. The book is comforting and calming. It's a very Irish book.

Very warming, quiet & introspective - There’s no plot just life/ the lives of Bell and Sigh (and dogs Pip and Voss <3 ) and all the details imaginable of the house occupied for 7 years in this novel. Whilst you’re not let in to the interior worlds of Bell and Sigh, you end up somehow knowing them closely.
Masterful nature writing/imagery/descriptive and lyrical prose. It at times felt like long form poetry by its fractured form and emphasis on detailed description.
Boring/beautiful. Mundane/Complicated clutterful lives. Ideal/what do we really want in life, who gets to leave society, what is living, what do we really need in order to live?

Very soothing to read amidst chaos or low dips.