A Piece from In the Night Garden

As you can see from my Reading List, I’m in the process of reading Valente’s The Orphan Tales: In the Night Garden. I’m taking my time with the book and I’ll write a proper review once I’m finished, but there’s so much gorgeous writing in it, I just wanted to share a piece.

I looked into the shadows, their substance, their limbs, their weight. At times, I felt at piece and watchful, as though I sat on the giant lip of a blue-black lily, its fat flesh curling underneath me, so perfect that no part of me could not be a part of it, and my body was changed, convereted into its charcoal and gloam. At other times, I felt cold and alone and very small. But I felt the tiny, struggling light inside me, and it was warm as a fire at my feet. It spread through me as though I was a sieve of silk, left me clean and pure in that silent cavern. I sat with palms upturned, trying to hold the curve of darkness like a great hanging belly, thunder-black and written upon with swarthy symbols, all alive and breathing and swirling in the violet long-past-sunset.

Hoo boy! I want to be able to write like that!


~ by Samer on February 24, 2008.

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