This book reminded me forcefully of why I stopped reading Margaret Drabble. A few years ago I went on a Drabble binge; I wanted everything; I read everything of hers I could get my hands on. Then The Garrick Year came along and killed me. I still love A Summer Bird-Cage, but that seems nearly forgotten now.
Anyway, The Witch of Exmoor, like many Drabble books, is full of tedious middle-class people with tedious middle-class concerns (inheritances, their children's educations), doing tedious middle-class things (dinner parties, weekends in the country, jobs in art galleries or with New Labour). I didn't like or care about any of them, and I've no idea what the point of the story was. A struggle to finish.Dr