Ali Smith’s Winter captures the starkness and emptiness of the season, with death lingering on the periphery. The writing is beautiful — poetic yet bare — with every reference carrying weight and poignancy.

One character unexpectedly shifts the relationships between three family members, bringing warmth and reconnection from an unexpected place. While I didn’t enjoy the characters as much as those in Autumn, I warmed to them by the end, which I think was the point. It falls short for me in that respect, where I enjoyed Smith’s political commentary and writing style, I didn’t care much for the characters in the novel.

Overall, this was a reflective and meaningful read that perfectly embodies winter’s stillness.