Book meme- Day 14
Apr. 2nd, 2019 12:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
scripsi14. An old favorite.
Alan Garner’s Elidor. I first heard it as a radio drama when I was a very small child, so small I didn’t fully grasp the difference between imagination and reality. And hearing those voices on the radio made it much more real to me than a text would. The tale both frightened and enchanted me and long after I carried bits and pieces with me; the derelict houses in the “real” world and the abandon ruins in Elidor. The four treasures. The threatening darkness and men in the garden, and the strange death and son of the unicorn. I didn’t understand it, but I sometimes thought of it, treasuring the memories.
I came across the book much later, probably when I was about ten. It was a very strange experience to read it and suddenly knowing bits and pieces. I have never read a book that has felt more magical than Elidor; I can never read it without that strange feeling of knowing it better than I’m prepared for. I can’t describe it properly, it’s a feeling that is almost physical as if the book could actually change, and tell me more than it does. And I love it for that. It’s a strange, sad book, but I still love it.
Alan Garner’s Elidor. I first heard it as a radio drama when I was a very small child, so small I didn’t fully grasp the difference between imagination and reality. And hearing those voices on the radio made it much more real to me than a text would. The tale both frightened and enchanted me and long after I carried bits and pieces with me; the derelict houses in the “real” world and the abandon ruins in Elidor. The four treasures. The threatening darkness and men in the garden, and the strange death and son of the unicorn. I didn’t understand it, but I sometimes thought of it, treasuring the memories.
I came across the book much later, probably when I was about ten. It was a very strange experience to read it and suddenly knowing bits and pieces. I have never read a book that has felt more magical than Elidor; I can never read it without that strange feeling of knowing it better than I’m prepared for. I can’t describe it properly, it’s a feeling that is almost physical as if the book could actually change, and tell me more than it does. And I love it for that. It’s a strange, sad book, but I still love it.
