I like some of his other books (Nobody's Fool), but this one perseverates so much on whiny, neurotic, self-absorbed characters, it's a chore to get through. Too sentimental. Too convenient. Much too long.
This book would have benefited from serious editing. By the middle, I just wanted it to be over!
"Around 1387 Chaucer began his master work, The Canterbury Tales. This lengthy poem, which weighs in at an impressive 17,000 lines, was never finished. It tells the tale of a group of pilgrims journeying from London to the shrine of Thomas … Becket at Canterbury. To pass the time on their trip, they tell each other stories."