Oh, Skylark. I just love this book. Really really love this book. I didn’t expect to like it as much as I did, didn’t expect it would resonate. Note that a day or two after reading this, I went to the pages I’d marked. I reread them. I loved them all over again, I loved it more. Fine me for overuse of the word “love.” I don’t much care.
He stood for some minutes before the gate with all the patience of a lover waiting for the appearance of his beloved. But he was waiting for no one. He was no lover in a worldly sense; the only love he knew was that of divine understanding, of taking a whole life into his arms, stripping it of flesh and bone, and feeling into its depths as if they were his own. From this, the greatest pain, the greatest happiness is born: the hope that we too will one day be understood, strangers will accept our words, our lives, as if they were their own.
Happy reading, all.
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Excerpted from the full review.
