Sometimes there is a prescience to novels, as if certain books have their particular time.
Listen, miracle of the future. You strange possibility, my descendant.
A poetic family saga that frustrates and then rewards
“It isn’t pretty, but it’s what I want it to be.”
How strange were the ways of the Castilians—just by saying something was so, they believed that it was.
“We read to know we are not alone.” C.S. Lewis