Posted From: 22.214.171.124
|Posted on Monday, September 13, 2010 - 02:00 pm: |
Some of you will recognise the title of this thread as a quote from T M Wright.
I read Carlisle Street on Saturday (cover to cover) and loved it, although I did think it felt like I'd read it before. When I got home and checked my Wright collection, I realised I had. Except I'd read it as The House on Orchid Street - which, if this was a song is a remix of the original Carlisle Street. the names of the leads are all changed. There are minor changes to the text and the chapters are slightly out of sequence, but it's the same book.
Very very weird.
My favourite section from carlisle Street was this
"The body of Christina Marchetti sat up suddenly in the tall weeds where it had been put. It was no great feat - corpses were known to sit up from time to time. But then, with the sunlight on her, she turned her head in the direction of her house, and her children, and a grief so intense that it penetrated Death itself tore through her. And her vocal chords - in the first stages of decomposition - ripped themselves apart in a quick tortured scream.
And then she lay down again."
I would kill to be able to write like that. So simple but atmospheric as hell and leaves a shiver right through me.