Truth be told, I came to this book by way of the movie (and hence the book cover art which, for sake of accuracy, is the version of the book I read, showing Colin Firth depicting central character George). I love thoughtfully made movies, but they are not my preferred avenue to discover books … but sometimes it works out for the better and this is one such case.

A Single Man, the mid-1960s short novel by Christopher Isherwood, captures the delicate minutiae of one person’s day, along with that person’s welling emotions and surprising spirit. George is a literature professor at a college in Southern California, set in the time in which the book was written and published. He is grappling with the sudden death of his longtime lover, Jim. While going about his day and his usual encounters in his neighbourhood and workplace, he is struggling from moment to moment with, well, how to *get* from moment to moment in the face of pervasive grief. I won’t spoil either the book or the movie by saying that each interprets differently George’s success in this struggle. In both, the end of George’s day is both ironic but oddly life affirming. In both, it’s entrancing to share the protagonist’s 24-hour journey.