This is a romance, but quite an odd one. It is idealised to the point where it barely provides motive force for a plot: not only do Marie and Driver find they have read many of the same books and think similarly about them, but they have no disagreements and there are no obstacles to their coming together other than their own tentativeness. (The point-of-view stays resolutely with Driver.) What gives Autumn Rounds mass and momentum are all the little pieces that it seamlessly fits together: cameos of their friendships with others, a glimpse of the world of ornithological illustration, observations of the Quebec countryside, and so forth.
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