... with the kaleidoscope only a little shifted: seascapes and dry stone walls, months incarnate and riddles of thorn.
Wow, that sounds like something I'd love. I haven't even gotten to the other recommendations you gave me.
The eponymous Pout is a weathercock archetype, instantly familiar—half-monastic and mercurial, given to Latinate self-congratulation ("In fact, this is really the year 637 P.P.T. . . . Post Pouti Triumphum, of course!") and rhyming imprecations ("Spitfires and spatchcocks!"), who in one moment can threaten Sally and Sandy as though all the powers of hell were at his command and the next wander sadly through the moonlit fens, forlornly hunting the one flower that will free him from his centuries of imprisonment.
And the above--I don't know; it just made me smile to read this kind of summation of a children's book. I'm so far from my college days and I miss them. The analysis makes me not only want to read the book but explore everything else mentioned here too. You know, you always manage to wake me up.
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Wow, that sounds like something I'd love. I haven't even gotten to the other recommendations you gave me.
The eponymous Pout is a weathercock archetype, instantly familiar—half-monastic and mercurial, given to Latinate self-congratulation ("In fact, this is really the year 637 P.P.T. . . . Post Pouti Triumphum, of course!") and rhyming imprecations ("Spitfires and spatchcocks!"), who in one moment can threaten Sally and Sandy as though all the powers of hell were at his command and the next wander sadly through the moonlit fens, forlornly hunting the one flower that will free him from his centuries of imprisonment.
And the above--I don't know; it just made me smile to read this kind of summation of a children's book. I'm so far from my college days and I miss them. The analysis makes me not only want to read the book but explore everything else mentioned here too. You know, you always manage to wake me up.