I'm struggling with ambivalent feelings about this book. The writing was undeniably lyrical and beautiful, and some of the anecdotes and facts the author shared were very interesting. But I can’t help feeling the whole thing was quite self-indulgent and that she was almost wallowing in being sad. Not to mention the immense privilege of being able to swan off to Iceland or Norway in order to winter properly! Having said that, I enjoyed the reading experience (without having the slightest urge to go cold water swimming!)