Before Christmas, I was in the midst of writing up some of my more recent readings, none of them particularly notable or really worth remembering afterwards. Then, Christmas Day, I began reading Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell, by Susanna Clarke. While I'd owned it since before November, I was saving up its 700-plus-page goodness for when I would have a proper amount of leisure time to devote to it. I have only just laid it down, and such was its effect on me that I do not want to pick up any other book for the next several hours at least, so it can stay and I can ruminate a while.
At various points in the story, mortals who have been taken under Faerie enchantment attempt to describe their plights, only to find themselves unable to say what they mean. Instead, they speak nonsense about children and birds, or planting crops for the winter, or anything but what they want to say. As long as they are under the enchantment, nothing will come out right.
If I try to write about this book while I am still under its spell, I fear nothing will come out right at all. So first, I'll give myself a chance to come back (reluctantly) from where I've been the last three days.
It has been only three days, hasn't it?
Posted on December 28, 2004 to inconstant reader
Previously: What I Read Before Christmas Vacation
Next Time: Nothing but books
Main: cleaning out ferryboats
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