Wednesday, July 3, 2013

Does it Sparkle and Rush and Gurgle?

At the same time that the world of Little, Big turns melancholy, the mosquitos arrive, uninvited to my garden party. While the littles abduct Lilac, my palm smashes petite bloodsuckers.

Some readers say nothing happens in this story.

"…and almost nothing happens."
"I was bored out of my mind."
"It was too long and too boring."
"I tried to read this but just couldn't slog my way through it."
"I'm someone who always finishes a book, but this one was impossible."

Not me, I'm hooked. As lost and enchanted at Edgewood as Violet's descendants.

And things do happen.

Smoky is cured of his anonymity—he marries Daily Alice Drinkwater and they… aren't the only ones who have children.
The tale's shepherd, Mrs. Underhill is mysteriously installed beneath the knoll—her home proper, within the roots of an oak and thorn in deep embrace.
Doc writes animal stories—one every day. (Of course he talks to them.)
Cloud reads those tarot cards—the Lesser Trumps.
The city mouse's house decays and regenerates into the Old Law Farm.
And Auberon, the youngest of Smoky's children, is found by Sylvie—who doesn't quite grasp the boundaries of her love's imaginary study.
Probably because, well, Sylvie, she has her Destiny.

Does it ramble? Does it meander? Does it sparkle and rush and gurgle?
Yes; yes; yes and yes and yes.

It's a river running, fraught with magic.

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