Monday, May 20, 2013

Unwritten...



Of the six million species on the planet, only man makes language. Words. What’s more – in evidence of the Divine – we string these symbols together then write them down, where they take on a life of their own and breathe outside of us. Story is the bandage of the broken. Sutures of the shattered. The tapestry upon which we write our lives…. And if it’s honest, true, hiding nothing, revealing all, then it is a raging river and those who ride it find they have something to give – that they are not yet empty.
 Charles Martin – Unwritten

Have you read it yet? Unwritten? Charles Martin’s brilliant new novel? You can check out my review {here} if you missed it… it’s been haunting me… in a good way... I'm rather stuck on it, actually...

It’s one of those books that, as the final page was turned, I wished to flip it right back around and start again… seriously… it’s good. IT’S HONEST. Which is, quite frankly, rare – and therefore refreshing.

You will, of course, about three words in, have to decide whether you want to continue reading or not. You see, that third word may require a dictionary. And right then, three words in, one must choose between a bewitching literary work or a brain numbing novel.  I chose the first and was quite… enchanted... (in case you couldn't already tell!)...

photo credit: arnoKath via photopin cc

 

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