This book creates a hollow depth as its pages are filled with words. I have never read a book as chilling as this one before - and believe me, it wasn't because of the vivid descriptions of snow and the Alaskan weather. 
 People with isolophobia beware: If you thought being alone was only something physical, then this book could easily prove you wrong. This book focuses around the life of elderly couple Jack and Mabel whom have, perhaps for kleptomaniac excuse of pursuing nirvana or enlightenment, choose to leave the comfort of society in Manhattan (I think) to move to Alaska. Think about it - no doctors, TV or beaches, in exchange for a lifetime of potato farming and moose steaks. Gee, swell life right? 
 Regarding Mabel and Jack's sanity - if one had to live a reclusive life, I suggest a place which is less harsh and definitely more welcoming. Why ever not choose places like Malibu or Bora Bora instead?! (But then, i have no idea whether these places are more habitable than Alaska or not. After all, the only geography knowledge I have came from perusing tourist leaflets and watching travel documentaries so pardon me). 
 Initially Jack and Mabel's lives were filled with dead ends and hardships (actually, for me, setbacks remained throughout the entire story). Funny how studying about world peace, environmental conservation, human rights and poverty doesn't so much as make me blink but after reading books about poor old people, my insides turn to mush. Enter the lovely snow child Faina and peace and warmth immediately start emanating from the book. The loneliness that I felt, however, never wavered; it was as if the snow child's presence merely emphasized the solitude and the desperation for company felt by the couple. 
 Fans and proponents of chick-lit should read this book. Romance between two lovers is not always a smooth journey, as evinced by the couple(s) present in this book. In this book, nobody had the airs of the usual bimbotic, brainless characters present in so many YA novels. Here in Alaska, everybody had a chore to complete, a role to play, a duty to serve, and everybody did their part in the story stoically despite the hardships faced. Herein lies the crux of perpetual eeriness and solitude I experienced while reading - every character was so hell-bent on not being a burden to each other that each were reluctant to render themselves to the feeble position of depending on others. I mean, come on, it's ok to lean on others for support once in a while, right? Asking for help sometimes doesn't make you any more inferior (this logic does not in any way apply to bimbos in cheezy chick-lit novels). 
 Like every version of "The Snow Child" this book doesn't have a sweet, perfect ending. You have been warned! In this book, there is no true distinction between joy and sorrow, good and bad, right and wrong. Ultimately, the only villian in the book who I can identify is the author - Ivey has to be a complete sadist for being able to come up with a story so pitiful as this one.