I got 100 or so pages into it because of great reviews, and indeed, very well-written.

But then began realizing, “What on earth am I doing? This is one of the most grim, horrific times in American history (just short of the Civil War.) So why am I reading page after page of dying birds, trees, cattle, and abject suffering?"

I know stories about this much-ignored time are important. I know the reviews promise ultimate hope.

But I just could not get through the grinding misery, haunted by the fact that for me, it’s only a book. These things really were happening to thousands of families, not that long ago.

If a book makes me lie awake at night in tears, with visions of horrors that were real, I just can’t continue. Maybe another time. Probably not. Just don’t have it in me anymore.