I've wanted to review Carlos Ruiz Zafón's brilliant and lovely The Shadow of the Wind for a while now. I've hesitated largely because I needed to think of something to say other than simply, holy crap this is good! I first read the book back when it was first published in the United States—it was already a best seller in Europe—about four years ago or so. Over the holidays, faced with some sixteen hours in the car with two trips to Morristown Tennessee and Birmingham, Alabama, my wife and I decided to take turns reading it aloud to each other. I wondered, frankly, if it could possibly be as good as I remembered. It was. No, wait. It was even better.