Started ...

... a new book today. The Stone Gods by Jeanette Winterson.

So far, I'm not too impressed. She herself claims that this is the first time she felt compelled from 'what was in front of her'; the state of the world. That said, I guess that means that the novel is too down too earth for me. Some of her other work has such a beautiful ethereal, floating, surreal quality. So ... beautifully 'other'. I guess that I look to her for my steady influx of the surreal. Dammit, I need my fix.

Plus, she's able to make words sit up and beg and roll over and make 'em do whatever she wants. Miss Winterson is a poet within the realms of the novel. And, this time, I'm just not feeling it, that love for language she usually displays and that great control she has over it. Instead of passion for the word, the novel, the story this is an angry undertaking.

But it has it's heart in the right place. It does want to show us something important. So, you know, what do I know. Hell, the book before this one was the latest Terry Pratchett. Bye-bye literary standards ...

't was a good giggle, though.

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