Thursday, April 29, 2010
This book is one of my favourites; I discovered it a couple of years ago. I found it hard to get into, but once I did, I loved it. It's about a tiny mouse with big ears and an even bigger heart who finds himself in the middle of an unexpected adventure where he has to save a beautiful princess. He is such an adorable little mouse you can't help sympathizing with him. If I could write something like this, I would die happy!
My favourite quote of all from the book is this one; his sister is trying to teach him how to eat a book like a proper mouse.
"Eat," said Merlot.
"I couldn't possibly," said Despereaux, backing away from the book.
"Um," said Despereaux. "It would ruin the story."
Priceless. I would definitely recommend this for anyone who is looking for a story with princesses, kings, soup, and tiny mice with big hearts.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
In my room, I have two bookshelves crammed full of my favourite volumes. I've even started having to place some horizontally on top of the others. I am a book lover; to me a holding a book is all part of the joy of reading. It saddens me to hear about e-books and books you can download onto your computer, iPod, or other device. I have nothing against them at all, sometimes they can be very useful and convenient, but I dread to think what would happen if they began to replace the books themselves. I need to hold a book when I'm reading it. To be able to open the cover as if I were opening a door, to smell the paper and listen to the pages rustle, whispering tantalizingly about the rest of the story I haven't read yet is a very important experience to me.
My room feels like a library. Honestly. And I love it! So many different stories surround me, so many different worlds. I love to be surrounded by my books. They are all beautiful and all of them are very special to me. It's as if they collect memories for me. I pick up At the Back of the North Wind by George MacDonald, a beautiful volume with illustrations by Jessie Willcox Smith, and remember how my sister gave it to me for a birthday present. Or my huge Lord of the Rings book, bound in black leather with gold leafed pages; my parents gave that to me for Christmas. I pick up my old paperback copy of The Little White Horse and am reminded of the first time I ever read it, when my dear friend lent her book to me. These memories are pressed like fairies in between the pages, waiting for me to pick the book up and open it so that they can flutter out and whisper laughingly in my ear.
Is there anyone out there that feels the same way about books as I do? Someone who loves them as much as Elinor in the Inkworld series? Someone who could NOT live without them? Or am I all alone...