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maypirateI'm going to do this now, before I forget or slack off again, even though it's evening and probably no one will see it.
On the various planes to and from Virginia, I read and finished Tana Frenchs' "In the Woods" and it did things to me. Over the past few months I picked it up at Borders a few times, and always walked away, but one day I took it with me because who can resist a child in the woods with shoes full of blood.
I don't really know how much I can say about it without giving it away or just going off on rambling rambles about places and people and things and hurts, but her writing was like falling backwards and never hitting anything, it was amazing and haunting and I wish I could make sentences like she does because they were absolutely gripping.
And the characters were real and painful, and the forward motion complete with constant sense of impending sorrow just broke my heart and tore everything to pieces and it was just incredible.
It's a murder mystery but not like the ones my parents read, not stolid and "this and this and that" but flowing and mysterious and real and hurtful. In a way it reminds me of Donna Tart's "The Little Friend," I guess mostly in some of the culmination, and if you've read that then I may have already said too much.
I don't know. I wish I'd been able to write about it the moment I finished it because I'm not doing it any justice but I haven't stopped thinking about it - although my thoughts have lessened over the following days.
It's not something I can or want to add to in any way. But its left a mark and I guess I just wanted people to know. She's done something I want to be able to do with words, and I can't get it out of my head.
On the various planes to and from Virginia, I read and finished Tana Frenchs' "In the Woods" and it did things to me. Over the past few months I picked it up at Borders a few times, and always walked away, but one day I took it with me because who can resist a child in the woods with shoes full of blood.
I don't really know how much I can say about it without giving it away or just going off on rambling rambles about places and people and things and hurts, but her writing was like falling backwards and never hitting anything, it was amazing and haunting and I wish I could make sentences like she does because they were absolutely gripping.
And the characters were real and painful, and the forward motion complete with constant sense of impending sorrow just broke my heart and tore everything to pieces and it was just incredible.
It's a murder mystery but not like the ones my parents read, not stolid and "this and this and that" but flowing and mysterious and real and hurtful. In a way it reminds me of Donna Tart's "The Little Friend," I guess mostly in some of the culmination, and if you've read that then I may have already said too much.
I don't know. I wish I'd been able to write about it the moment I finished it because I'm not doing it any justice but I haven't stopped thinking about it - although my thoughts have lessened over the following days.
It's not something I can or want to add to in any way. But its left a mark and I guess I just wanted people to know. She's done something I want to be able to do with words, and I can't get it out of my head.
