How might an author take you away from your computer, Blackberry, MP3 player and cast you back to a place and time so remote from this reality you may as well be on an alien planet? Follett does it with elegant artistry, a fine understanding of the period and a deep appreciation for that which is timeless; the human spirit and our capacity for passion. A family walks a path through woods separating the next town. Their life savings, a small pig, carried under the arm of a young boy. The husband, a builder hoping to find employment, is deeply concerned for his young wife who has gone into labor on the wayside. The infant is fine, but the placenta attaches and the young mother bleeds out and perishes. And with the inescapable knowledge the infant will die for want of his mother's milk, the father leaves his newborn son to die on the side of the road. Sadly, they walk away. If such a scenario doesn't pull you back through the vortex of time, and then, upon returning, make you grateful for the simple joys of rush-hour roulette, you're a very tough audience. Pillars is a gleaming gem. Allow its multiple facets to shine on you, and, in turn, cause you to experience reflections of your own. I'm looking forward to your review of the sequel, World Without End. If it's better than Pillars, (and I think it is) it's only because Follett has had a couple of decades to polish his art.