Some smack of age in you, some relish of the saltness of time.
You still don’t know what it means, right? It means the quality of being salty. See how much work I do for you? I am a river to my people. Now, just how does this apply to the story? Don’t rush me, I’m getting there.
We have a modern day slice of Chaucer here, with four traveling friends marooned in a small hotel because of a blinding blizzard in the plains of Kansas. In the main room by a comforting fire, they meet an elderly gentleman who offers to tell them a story from his youth, when he, too, was becalmed in the home of an elderly woman, also due to a raging snow storm. From his geriatric host, he learns the story and secrets of her life.
So the whole thing is like a matryoska doll … a story within a tale within a narrative.
It was a charming book. I have learned that when you don’t know exactly what to say about a book you like, if you call it ‘charming’, that pretty much covers all sins and graces, and while this book’s only sin, and a venial one at that, is the tried and true trope of the ‘traveler’s tale’, its graces are many and delightful. Do read it. We need more grace in our lives and less crudeness, and it behooves us to snag the graces of life wherever we may find them.