Mar. 2nd, 2007

zanzjan: (bookshelf)
The Gift, by Patrick O'Leary
Tor, 1998
  I set the book down
  But the words still hold me tight,
  Neither of us done.

Okay. I've been trying to work on my writing, but when I'm writing I can't read anything that's even vaguely similar to what I write (space opera) without it totally throwing me off my game. So I've been reading a lot of fantasy and "light fare" (ie, stuff that's enjoyable but doesn't leave residue in my brain when I'm done).

I was not prepared for this book to be as intense as it was. I'm still absorbing it, but I think I can fairly say that this is one the best damned book I've read in a long time -- right up there in terms of brilliance with Susanna Clarke's Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell and Robert Charles Wilson's Spin, at the very least.

I have another book my O'Leary somewhere way down in the to-be-read pile, but I suspect it's going to do some cutting in line upwards. Right now, though, I'm not ready to read anything else because I'm still not ready to get my head out of the space The Gift put me in.

Nothing for it but to go back to writing, I suppose.

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