I picked up this book because I was supposed to go see the West End musical based on it and I wanted to know what to expect before I went.

The book is built to be a tear-jerking, moving affair, and it delivers on its promise. Joyce clearly knows the tropes that we expect, and cleverly weaves her narrative in and around them. The things that you are sure to happen to Harold on his way don’t happen, though the narrative is well aware of their possibility. What you’d expect his wife Maureen to do is also something Joyce enjoy subverting. There is something delicious about seeing a capable writer at work.

In any case, the basic plot is that Harold, a recently retired company man who lives in a village in southern England is stuck in his life. His wife Maureen lives in the same house with him, both of them recluses, and spends her days cleaning the house, finding fault with everything Harold says or does (the couple live in separate rooms and have been for years) and complaining about him to their son David. Maureen keeps expecting David to come visit, and Harold seems to have no friends, no hobbies, no prospects, no future.

This all changes when Harold gets a letter from his friend Queenie, a coworker that he hasn’t been in touch with for 20 years. She’s in a hospice, dying from cancer, and the letter is her farewell note to Harold. It moves him deeply, and he decides to write back to her. Instead of just posting the letter, he starts to aimlessly walk from one postbox to another, each time postponing sending the note – until a chance conversation with a woman at a gas station has him setting on an ill conceived pilgrimage to Queenie’s hospice, 450 miles away in the border between England and Scotland. As he meets people on the way he contemplates about his past, and we slowly piece together what happened that brought Harold, Maureen and Queenie to where they are today.

There are moving bits, frustrating bits, and one big, gut-wrenching revelation that makes you want to hug all three characters tightly. But mostly it’s a story about invisible people, people that seem dull but have huge tragedies and love stories and dreams in their lives, a story about connecting with others and about finding redemption through your feet.

Is this book perfect? No. It’s like Harold – a bit frumpy, sometimes dull, but it has a lot of heart in it, good intentions and it’s worth spending an afternoon with, preferably with some hot tea and biscuits.