Second Book

The second book I distinctly remember reading in bed, during a snowstorm. It made me cry. Not only because the subject matter was so intense, but because again, I was overwhelmed by the way the author reinvented the use of language in fiction. I loved the idea of poetic narrative. Of an ethereal sense of the world. Dreamlike.

Toni Morrison's (who I find very difficult to read at times, but immensely worth it when I am able) book Beloved stopped me completely. I had to close the book and close my eyes and just sit. Still and quiet. I could only read the book in bits, because of its power. What she does with the story, how she re-invents it through different eyes, and then through the use of language all broken apart, is a perfect metaphor for the subject of slavery.

Both of these books inspired me to incorporate some of this dreamlike poetic narrative into stories of my own. One is a full length manuscript and the other is in a short story. Neither compare in any way to these two books, but I like this use of language so much, I needed to weave it into my own writing somehow. Perhaps I'll post some of mine later on. For now, theirs is preferable.

All of it is now it is always now there will never be a time when I am not crouching and watching others who are crouching too I am always crouching the man on my face is dead
his face is not mince his mouth smells sweet but his eyes are locked
some who eat nasty themselves I do not eat the men without
skin bring us their morning water to drink we have none