These paper boats of mine are meant to dance on the ripples of hours, and not reach any destination... Rabindranath Tagore

So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past...F. Scott Fitzgerald - The Great Gatsby

We were the people who were not in the papers. We lived in the blank white spaces at the edges of print. It gave us more freedom. We lived in the gaps between the stories.
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On the way to the river are the old dormitories, used for something else now, with their fairy-tale turrets, painted white and gold and blue. When we think of the past it's the beautiful things we pick out. We want to believe it was all like that.
--from Margaret Atwood - The Handmaid's Tale

Reading is the sole means by which we slip, involuntarily, often helplessly, into another's skin, another's voice, another's soul.
- Joyce Carol Oates

Sunday, July 29, 2012

The Red Poppy Begins


The Red Poppy (2012) - David Hill
opens with the words:
Jim McLeod wrote to his mother and his sister Edith. He said nothing about the day to come, nor the mud and the rats. He didn't mention the piles of stretchers waiting for the dead and wounded.




Even in war time
Even when the winds are sour
Somewhere is sweetness




I wrote a poetic review of The Red Poppy HERE!

Linking to:
Book Beginnings on Fridays
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2 comments:

Rowen said...

Is that book about WWI? Sounds like something that the soldiers in that war would have written

July 30, 2012 at 5:17 PM
Literary Feline said...

I love the artwork! I had to go and read your review as this one caught my eye. It sounds like a very moving book. One well worth reading. Thanks for sharing!

Have a great week!

July 31, 2012 at 12:41 AM

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