I had to not read this for ages because I was writing a book myself and that book had anthropomorphised seasons in it and one thing I could not possibly do was read how terry Pratchett anthropomorphised seasons before I worked out how to do it myself. Now the book is done and alas and waily waily waily Pratchett has met the guy in all-caps, so I finally get to read it.

Tiffany Aching, witch-in-training, through a blunder at a dark and mysterious dance, finds that the wintersmith, the spirit of winter, has fallen in love with her, partly because he thinks she's the spirit of summer and partly just because she's Tiffany. His various and potentially catastrophic attempts at wooing, as he struggles to become more human, need to be curtailed, or there might never be a summer ever again. Tiffany is aided by assorted witches and the Wee Free Men, aggravating as it may be.

Funny and smart with heart, this is fantasy, but grounded and sensible as ever, even as it scales the heights of mad ideas. Sigh. I don't want him to be gone.