Andrés Paniagua Curiel (anselmo_b) wrote,
Andrés Paniagua Curiel
anselmo_b

Half way through.

My heart aches from reading «AEgypt». I just got through «Love and Sleep» and feel dread and delight at the thought of the coming two. This is my first reread since the quartet was finished and a lot of things really stand out differently now that the story is whole. I set out purposefully, taking notes to ponder afterwards, and pausing to make sure I was “getting” it all. But soon I was too immersed, barely able to keep an appropriate emotional distance. In fact, though I first would not admit it, I’ve been growing a bit depressed or anxious over the last few days, in anticipation of the mounting darkness I now know. By now my previous words have made it necessary that I state explicitly a very obvious thing: I also very much enjoy reading these books. The thing is, they have a very strong grip on me. John Crowley is not the only author, this novel not the only that I reread every few years, but I am starting to learn that «AEgypt» is the one among them that resonates within me in the least abstract manner. Which is not really expectable considering that neither John Crowley’s nor his characters’ life experiences are too similar to mine.
I apologize to anyone who has read this far in the hope of learning anything new from within the story from me, but I’m not going to inflict my observations here now; I’d probably be just boring you if you are among the potentially interested.
Oh well, just one thing. I have new theory about the chest: It is not a container, it is a device. In two senses, it’s a mechanism (that is set off by turning the key in it), and it is a teaser (that will nag at the back of your mind for two more novels), an element of plot. And therefore it is a pun too, and with that, it is three things actually.
Subscribe

  • Hmmmm.

    I always have a tab opened to my LJ friends page. For some reason it was set to my own journal in the past few weeks and I didn't realise it. So…

  • Delivery

    Delivery Ahead of you, still shut, the passageway Into noise, strife and time. You realize the rocking has stopped Labours are grinding down To a…

  • Death Fugue

    Death Fugue Black milk of dawn we drink it at evening we drink it at noontime we drink it at night we drink and we drink we shovel a grave in the…

  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
  • 4 comments