been picking away at your absorbing story entirely out of order but with fascination and may take some time....regardless on the Thoreau angle he did lose a brother so theres that and only learned that from a fine book/memoir i read this winter by writer and artist Ben Shattuck "Six Walks in the Footsteps of Henry David Thoreau" actually slim as it is ive been putting off finishing it not that there are any cliffhangers its just joyful i felt connected
Beautifully wistful writing, Mary. As I read the final lines, I thought of Virginia Woolf's To the Lighthouse.
I'm not at all versed in architectural terms, so had to look up transom before you gave a definition at the end. I'm slightly more familiar with its nautical use: "A transom is the flat, vertical surface at the back of a boat that connects the two sides of the hull. It supports the outboard motor, propeller, and other stern-mounted equipment." Perhaps the life is the transom and the writing is an outboard motor, taking us ...somewhere.
To pick one line out of many, I love the way you expressed the look of your father's shadow on a beach at a certain time of day with precision, grace, and newness:
"...his angles like a Giacometti sculpture in shadow at the edge of sand in fading light."
I know I'm going to think of that line often this summer.
been picking away at your absorbing story entirely out of order but with fascination and may take some time....regardless on the Thoreau angle he did lose a brother so theres that and only learned that from a fine book/memoir i read this winter by writer and artist Ben Shattuck "Six Walks in the Footsteps of Henry David Thoreau" actually slim as it is ive been putting off finishing it not that there are any cliffhangers its just joyful i felt connected
I just realized in reading, that I’ve been holding my breath. And now, with this chapter, like a rising sun’s arc of almost, I finally can exhale.
Emotional chapter, but just go.
Beautifully wistful writing, Mary. As I read the final lines, I thought of Virginia Woolf's To the Lighthouse.
I'm not at all versed in architectural terms, so had to look up transom before you gave a definition at the end. I'm slightly more familiar with its nautical use: "A transom is the flat, vertical surface at the back of a boat that connects the two sides of the hull. It supports the outboard motor, propeller, and other stern-mounted equipment." Perhaps the life is the transom and the writing is an outboard motor, taking us ...somewhere.
This was so lyrical, Mary.
To pick one line out of many, I love the way you expressed the look of your father's shadow on a beach at a certain time of day with precision, grace, and newness:
"...his angles like a Giacometti sculpture in shadow at the edge of sand in fading light."
I know I'm going to think of that line often this summer.