Monday, November 30, 2009

loveliness 338


Reinvigorating the lost art of reading aloud. We are reading Driftwood Valley by Theodora C. Stanwell-Fletcher, in a wonderfully stained 1946 edition, that, according to the name on the inside cover, was once owned by one "Olive Pinder." Every time I close this book, the rag-covered hardcover slaps against the soft pages with a satisfying thhwump, which never fails to remind me of those annoying but endearing scenes in The Princess Bride (I need to see this again soon!!!!) in which the grandfather reads aloud to his sick grandson from a similarly old volume.

I apologize for the poor and long-windy quality of the previous two sentences, and the non-sentence character of the first sentence.

ps. when looking for a link for Driftwood Valley, I came across this review of the book, which starts off so well (first paragraph) and then goes steadily downhill with the statement "the best book written on an outdoor theme by a woman." Pssshhh.

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