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JohnBem
Posted 2017-04-29 2:00 PM (#15631 - in reply to #15537)
Subject: Re: High Fantasy Reading Challenge 2016
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devilinlaw - 2017-04-03 1:35 PM


Then i trudged my way through Little, Big by John Crowley begrudgingly. It's not that it's a bad book, it's just not my style. i had a hard time getting through to the end.


A friend of mine loved Little, Big. Adored it. One of her all-time favorites. Because of her, I tried to read it, starting it on no less than three occasions. And I could never get more than a dozen or two pages into it.

The book has been in my collection for more than 10 years; I never traded or sold it because of my friend, Cheryl, thinking I would read it some day and then she and I could finally discuss it.

And now, sadly, she died. Last autumn, just a few months ago. And now Little, Big is not just another "something to get to some day." It rests on my shelves reproachfully, a grim reminder of the transitory nature of all things; a guilty reminder of tasks undone, moments never shared, and memories never created.

I don't know now if I'll ever be able to read Little, Big. Nor do I think I'll ever be able to part with it. Over two-thousand books line my shelves and teeter in stacks, and yet this one now stands out more prominently than all the rest whenever I shuffle through my library on some insomniac quest, and profound feelings of loss and existential dread wash over me. This is the most deeply I've ever been affected by an unread book.

Edited by JohnBem 2017-04-29 2:04 PM

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