I really did not want this book to end, it was, just, wow, there's no words! I'm sad that it ended when it did. I have that sort of melancholy feeling you get from finishing a book that's really special. I can't remember the last time I felt that, maybe as far back as The Elegance of the Hedgehog (and that was back in 2010)? In some way it's greater because the story didn't have to end there. The nature of the story means it never really had to end, although I suppose if it didn't end Atkinson would still be writing it and I wouldn't have got to read it at all! 
 How can I describe this book? It's a sort of epic Groundhog Day. It's strange how everything seems sort of inevitable, even though Ursula has lived it before, has knowledge from that former life, even though you know she should fix it you're scared that the same thing will just happen again, and again, and again. You're shouting at her. You know what's going to happen and there's a sadness, and a dread, somehow you don't think she'll fix it. 
 I think that shows something of Atkinson's writing talent, and ability to get you into a story, that your emotions trump your logic, every, single, time. 
 I loved Ursula, when everything changed, however she decided to live that life, she was still, undeniably Ursula, and that's probably a hard thing to achieve. I enjoyed the whole family dynamic too, and that was something which barely changed. 
 A lot of the story focused around the second world war, which is a period of time I like to read fiction about. It was interesting though because Ursula's different lives meant you could see the war from different angles, and with a sort of hindsight which was built into the novel, rather than from the reader living in a different time. 
 I've never read any Atkinson before, she's known for crime stories, which aren't generally my thing, but I may read more of her now.