Perhaps the thing that makes a fairy tale different from its cousins is the fairy tale voice; that strange and varied tone that hints at a childish audience despite the fact that the story most likely wouldn’t be understood by anyone so young as that.
Maybe the beauty of life doesn’t lie in its uniqueness, but rather in the simple way our experiences weave together to form something subtler, something richer.
It might be said that Dickens’s fiction – holiday and otherwise – plumbs the blackened, sooty depths of human depravity to ultimately offer hope in visions bright as a blazing hearth.
Having forfeited pleasures of nature for worlds of fiction and creative nonfiction, I am here to recommend three books that are perfect to pack if you’re planning a mountain- or lake-side vacation this autumn.
To read the first part published last week, click here. There’s more to the poem than I let on. If you’ve tangled with it already then you’ll know that. The Four Quartets is not composed entirely of enchanting melodies, and intrusive koans. These things figure, of course, but there are other voices, beyond the children [...]
Anonymous is little more than a showcase for pretty boys to strut about in gorgeous, historically inauthentic costumes, speaking anachronistic lines and participating in fictional events.
The first time I read it, at a conceited 23, it didn’t make much of an impression.
You are named, and yet unknown, and today, that is good enough for me.