Maguire

For the first time, I find myself itching for a pencil while I read, as though my rambling thoughts are somehow worth recording. Then again, reactions to Gregory Maguire are always nothing less than orgasmic. His writing is beautiful and intricate, and I delight in pulling it apart. I savor the delicious bits of description, of a nougat white against rain soaked black. I wonder how often his inspiration is visibly and immaturely woven to mine.