i've been thinking about reading and what makes it special. i love it most of all because of i love words, and taking them in, and how they're arranged because they speak to me very clearly when i take them in through my eyes. i absorb them and they speak through the writer into my own experience, and desire, my fear, and my hope.
in west of here, jonathan evison tells many stories, woven together to comprise a town in tapestry, not limited to one set of people, or time. it is an ambitious book full of place and change, and memory, and i found i felt most captivated there in the past, with the mather party, its humans and animals -- oh lord, the animals. this man can write animals! this story of adventure, of men seeking a way through unknown woods, at first full of confidence, like children, and then increasingly frustrated as obstacle after obstacle overcomes their party resonated most for me, and it is my dear wish that the author would take some of his considerable talent and use it to create a series of adventure stories, for his son, and for me, and for all the others who would follow him through the woods any day of the week. :)