I have, quite by accident, managed to wolf down novels lately like a fat kid at a buffet table.
In these past three weeks - to the day - I have read Tailchaser's Song by Tad Williams, Everyone Worth Knowing, by nobody worth reading, A Fine and Private Place by my personal literary hero, Peter Beagle, and the following by Patricia McKillip, who's sort of my novelist version of a rockstar (I'm devil horning her as we speak): The Riddle Master of Hed, Heir of Sea and Fire, Harpist in the Wind, In the Forests of Serre, and The Bell at Sealy Head.
Somehow, this thread escaped me the entire time.
I'm about 10 pages away from finishing A Fine and Private Place, and for whatever my opinion is worth, it was exactly that, for me. A fine and private place, somewhere comforting to escape to. Even when its characters all became hopeless at the same instant, I kept reading without so much as a pause. Tailchaser's Song became really dark and unpleasant in the second half, one of those books that follows you on late night trips to the toilet and makes you second-glance at things even when they're familiar. I literally stopped reading it for a day to recover. o.o I might be way too sensitive about cats. . .
Either way, I was ripe for something sad, slow, and touching. There is no fanfare in this book; it's the Tarantino of novels - mostly dialogue. Funny, clever, heartbreaking dialogue. Nothing in it batters you over the head with its message, it's a very subtle story.
Anyway, I'm rambling. Maybe it was just the right time for me to read something about loneliness and intimacy, but whatever the case, I highly recommend it to basically anybody.