A Discovery. A Beautiful Discovery.

One of the positives about England is the books and the book stores.  For a small country, they are blessed with an abundance of bookstores and books that we cannot match.
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And, wandering through them, is a magical experience.
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And sometimes, every now and then, you discover magic in a book.
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The First Fifteen Lives of Henry August is the book I discovered Thanksgiving.  The type of book you stay up late to read.  The type of book you want to share with everyone.
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It is Claire North's first book.  Does this amazing, genre busting book portend great things in the future, like Kurt Vonnegut?  Or does it portend a long line of similar books, growing steadily less engrossing as the trick is repeated over and over? (I choose not to give an example - but there are plenty of promising authors who can't move from their tether.)
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I don't know, but I do know a good book when I read it.  And this is one.  It is one that uses a plot device that has very recently become a little too fashionable - but which she incorporates into a story, not the point of the story.  It does not become the McGuffin that eats the novel.
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If you read Life After Life, and thought, "Wow, that went nowhere slowly!" Then read The First Fifteen Lives of Henry August.
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And if I am late and stupid (after all it is on the best seller list in England) then forgive me singing the praises of something you know.  Content yourself that you discovered this before me, but grant me the joy of telling others.
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I liked it.