The Fields of Home, by Ralph Moody

***

Not quite as good as Man of the Family or Little Britches. Moody's grandfather is infuriating to read . . . I can't imagine what he was like to live with. I was reminded of the frustration I felt in reading James Herriot's accounts of his partner Sigfried (though Moody was not quite as long-suffering as Herriot). I suppose, too, it was refreshing to see Moody's brilliant ideas fall short a few times (after essentially two whole books about his agricultural, equestrian, and engineering genius)--even if the cause of the failing was often his grandfather's interference. Objectively speaking, it's an excellent book, and one with a strong story arc--his grandfather's adjustment to time and progress--but it's hard to me to rate too highly a book that annoyed me so much. Still, I look forward to continuing the series.