I really really really wanted to love this book. I started out enjoying it very much. It was British, cozy and made me want to drink copious amounts of Irish tea with milk and sugar in it.
But somewhere along the way I started to feel like I was reading a British Danielle Steele novel. Not to be snobbish, I do like some of Danielle Steele's books but some of them are written as if she were racing to finish them. Suddenly in The Light Years paragraphs seems to explode into detail and I kept waiting for a plot to appear that would give the book some depth. It never arrived.