Somethings change my life because of their resonance. The Symbolist movement that I read through in a haze of library books from the 1930's; falling in love with Kurt Vonnegut two weeks before he passed away as I read A Man without a Country for my high school senior English class; the afternoon I read most of On the Road.
I am currently about a hundred pages into Diana Tartt's The Secret History and I can feel it changing me as I read. It's mood is autumn and winter, its language is my fleeting dreams, and its ending is as mysterious to me as my own unspoken and truly unwonderered future.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
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