a blog with cultural bulimia.

Sunday, May 23, 2004

a moment with a dead robin in it

"Jocelyn had never been allowed to have a dog. A dog, in her mother's opinion, was just a story with a sad ending coming"

I love to read.

No breaking news, I know.

But thhis is what i wonder every time i open The Jane Austen Book Club, my current reading: Why is that i get such pleasure from a perfectly written, simply expressed, carefully worded sentence? What causes my pleasure central to react to such stimuli? Rethorical questions, of course.

Some samples of what re-directed my brain to that place. There is not a single word in excess, it's beauty trimmed off any fat content:

Pridey was so happy he blurred at the edges. He ran up the seesaw and did not weight enough to tip it until the very end. The downward plunge frightened him, and he jumped straight into Jocelyn's arms, but two seconds later, completely recovered, he wiggled his way loose, grabbed a leaf in his teeth, and raced off, dropping it only when he found a dead robin in the grass. Pridey lived in the moment , and a moment with a dead robin in it was a very good moment.