I read the early part of this book on the underground, and I was shaking with laughter in my seat and occasionally even chuckling aloud. Christopher has fallen exuberantly in love with Catherine, but she is all-too-conscious of the age gap between them, and hopes to cool his ardour with politeness.

"I've always known you", he said solemnly; and at this she rather quickly offered him some cake, which he ignored.

Spoiler alert: At this point I imagined that Love was going to be one of those delicious, escapist books, like Miss Pettigrew Lives For A Day or Mrs 'Arris Goes To Paris, in which quiet, patient virtue is finally rewarded and a dusty existence comes to life. And that does happen in this book. But the trouble is, the story continues on afterwards, and reality comes rushing back in with a vengeance. For Catherine is 47, about to become a grandmother, and Christopher is 25. Social disapprobation is one thing, but Catherine's own consciousness of the gap in their ages (which Christopher is blithely unconcerned about) leads her to ever more desperate measures. I found this part of the story almost unbearably sad.

The blurb is very much focused on the romance and the comedy and barely hints at poignant undertones. I kind of hope that was a sales-pitch thing - that's much better than the possibility that someone could read this and see it as a comedy throughout! ( )