The beauty of the prose is astounding. There are no words that can adequately, let alone comprehensively, describe the beauty of the prose. I do not at all exaggerate when I say that reading novels like that, having unimpeded access to such beauty of language, is what makes life worth living; it is what reminds me of the beauty of life and all that is precious about it. When I read novels like that, I feel ashamed of my own subpar, purple, fatuous writing. But it is novels like Housekeeping, and the beauty of the language, that makes me want to be an even better writer. It is what inspires me to constantly improve, hoping that, if I kept trying, one day, I will be so much better.
It is the rare book that manages to move me to a catch in the throat simply through the beauty of its prose. Simply amazing.