I wasn't going to read this book.
At all.
In fact, my life has been so filled with school work that letting this one thing go seemed like a blessing. So I opened it up today so that I could post this having said that I tried.
Ooops.
What I found instead is that Dillard is a phenomenal writer. She writes prose the way mere mortals write poetry. Her paragraphs have rhyme and meter. Her prose flows in a way that makes it seem like some other medium entirely. The words are grotesque at worst and intricately detailed at best, but intoxicatingly easy to read.
What I'm trying to say is this: I guess I am reading this book after all. Please forgive me for being so far behind the curve.
I think it's really interesting that you think Dillard is easy to read, because I think it's tremendously hard. Not in the sense that I don't enjoy it or that it isn't clear, but I often find myself getting so lost in the flow that she has that I have to go back and reread to make sure I am getting everything that I can out of it.
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