I am enjoying a sneezing, coughing episode now in its third day, to get through which I am reading this magnificent book by day and watching an episode of the Benedict Cumberbatch mini-series each night. What a wonderful writer is the oddly named Ford Madox Ford (born Ford Hermann Hueffer; he changed it in honor of an ancestor whose middle name was Madox, but without explaining why he ditched the surname as well). No doubt I am influenced in its favor by the three handsome actors who represent Christian Tietiens; his wife Sylvia; and his beloved but never-reached Valentine. But it's not just that. I find myself following Sally around the house, declaiming bits of Mr Ford's brilliant prose. I haven't been this excited about a book since I was an undergraduate.