This isn’t normally the sort of book which I read, I suppose it’s SF – ish in that it’s about a chap who time travels, unable to control when and where he goes. It seems to be triggered by stress, he first time travels when he is a small child travelling in a car which crashed, killing his mother.

It’s a chunkster (far too long) which jumps around a lot in time as you would expect but it isn’t difficult to follow, and that is probably because not a lot happens really. It’s a good idea which doesn’t live up to the possibilties. This isn’t a book which you would want to give to your granny to read. I do wish that authors would leave the bedroom doors shut. It is soooo boring.

I said to Jack that I was finding it weird but in some ways quite compelling. He said – is that in a car crash sort of way compelling?

I said: You mean sort of rubber necking?

And I think for me it was the bookish equivalent of rubber necking because apparently people do that to learn something from the situation – don’t do whatever it looks like that driver did. It’s a survival instinct I suppose.

I must have hoped that I would learn something from the book, but I don’t think I did, unless it was – stick to what you know you like!