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Re: Re: crawling out from the corner
Good G-d, Jef! If you weren't a married man, baby...well, actually, I'd
be scared.
Well, actually, maybe I am, anyway.
Just finished Charles De Lint's "Forests of the Heart." He lost me for a
while, I have to admit, after "Drink Down The Moon" and "Jack the
Giant-Killer" chained me to a wall. I was on fire reading those books.
Second time through, though, years later, I just didn't get as much.
Might have to try it again now that FotH piqued my interest in his work
again.
Now I'm reading George Foy's "Memory of Fire." It's good, but
unrelentingly complex. The man can't say an apple is red; he has to say
it's the deep, mutable, bloody shade of the shame Soledad felt when the
first blossom of nacreous smoke rose over the exploding _cruce_, when the
realisation first hit her like a visceral claw, that no matter what she
did, her life there was over, all her mistakes erased: wiped clean like a
slate rinsed with sweat and confusion and the blood of every hard-eyed
woman, every gesticulating poet with fire in his eyes, and every small
jungle parrot with smoky lilac wingfeathers.
Now laughing hysterically at myself,
Ysoie
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