gushing

[jazzfish]

And Steph is now famous, though probably dying of embarrassment at the same time. (As someone who's known her for ten years and spent, um, some of them hopelessly in love with her, I get to point out these little foibles. I can do so safely because in order to beat me up she'd have to come see me, and, well, then I'd get a visit from Steph. :)

I'm a chapter and some into Susanna Clarke's wondrous novel Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell, and I can safely say that everyone should read this. Especially, in no particular order, baranoouji (who has shown immense foresight by taking my recommendation before I actually made it), idoru, shadowsong, nixve, jude, scathach, uilos (who's already got my copy of "The Ladies of Grace Adieu," Ms Clarke's first story featuring Mr Strange, and thus does not require any more encouragement), antikate, pictsy, liafaile, and pretty much anyone who's read and enjoyed (for example) Neil Gaiman's Stardust. Speaking of which, Ms Clarke has graciously made available The Duke of Wellington Misplaces His Horse, her short story set in the village of Wall.

This is a book that was written, to paraphrase Mr Brust, for those who enjoy seeing words upon a page. I cannot find the words to express this sentiment more clearly, save to note that the book contains the only sentence that I have actually gone back and reread -- twice -- for the sheer pleasure it gave me:

The day of the visit was preceded by stormy weather; rain had made long ragged pools in the bare brown fields; wet roofs were like cold stone mirrors; and Mr Honeyfoot's post-chaise travelled through a world that seemed to contain a much higher proportion of chill grey sky and a much smaller one of solid comfortable earth than was usually the case. (Clarke, 7)

(At this point I really want to go off on a tangent about Victorian children's literature (Beatrix Potter and A.A. Milne, frex) and how it shaped my taste in reading. So, consider that done.)

Sadly, today must be spent playwriting and at work, so it'll be awhile before I can get back to the book. Le sigh.

Comments

[scathach.livejournal.com]

Ok, so this is the first time I've been on-line since that second message was sent, so I didn't know he'd posted that bit until you linked to it.

Not entirely mortified, but not entirely sure that it qualifies as making me famous, either. I happen to know one of the guys in the band, and had lost track of him (but he's a PA for Neil, so I knew that would be a good way to find out).

They're actually a pretty good band, if you're looking for silly festy pseudo-irish kind of stuff.