Page 9: Islands of light are swimming on the grass. They have fallen through the trees.
Page 11: And I am left standing by the wall among the flowers.
I think this book could turn my idea of fiction on its ear (on my ear?--I'm not really sure how that phrase works, now that I try using it). I haven't been sleeping well... Tired all day and then wide awake come 11pm. 12. 1. Finally at about 1:30 or 2 I slip into a fitful sleep and I toss and turn until 7 when I start hitting snooze. Then I'm tired all day again. Rinse and repeat.
I just finished reading Thirteen Moons by Charles Frazier, which kicked a lot of ass:
Page 86: I decided many of Bear's stories and comments shared a general drift. They advised against fearing all of creation. But not because it is always benign, for it is not. It will, with certainty, consume us all. We are made to be destroyed. We are kindling for the fire, and our lives will stand as naught against the onrush of time. Bear's position, if I understood it, was that refusal to fear these general terms of existence is an honorable act of defiance.The next night, trying desperately to fall asleep, I read and re-read the first 1/4 page of The Waves for an hour before giving up and listening to cars slish through the snow and slush outside. I decided to give the book another chance tonight, mostly because Harry Potter #4 promised to be too page-turningly captivating and insomniating.
Page 390: Melt is not necessarily the right word. We collided with some hope that all the pieces shattered in the collision might form a pleasant pattern afterward.
It is now 1am, my mind is in fits trying to wrap itself around Virginia Woolf, and I'm blogging myself to sleep.
