The descriptions of wilderness were beautiful. So beautiful, that as an ardent hater of winter I started to forget the depressing coldness and darkness, and remember the magical moments. Subtle snowfalls, complex patterns of snowflakes and how they melt on your glove, crackling snow beneath your feet, clear ice on lakes etc. This is the kind of novel I probably wouldn't read, but when I heard the story was inspired by a Russian folktale, it immediately got me interested. I'd say Ivey utilized the tale well, but this still ended up as a "book between books", a novel that I don't feel like reviewing in detail. A nice little story about a childless couple in the Alaskan frontier, but that's it. Besides, the end was disappointing. It verged too much on the realistic side for me.