I can't imagine anyone actually getting through this book. I had the feeling it was going nowhere a third of the way in. Generic characters dressed up to resemble something closer to life, plodding pace, pointless events (many of them spent in fast food places), dreary dialogue. It's supposed to be about a dying ex-monk who wants to go back to his old monastery (now sunk beneath a dammed lake), but why he feels compelled to make the journey, what dying and old age are like, what this man feels or knows, his history, have all eluded this writer who makes do with "sensitive" writing. This puts her in the ranks of so many deservedly unread writers of sensibility we seem to be churning out in great numbers. Andrea, my advice is to write only when you have something to say.