Winter Rose by Patricia A. McKillip
262 pages
Published 1996
Read from October 22 to October 31
Rating: 4 out of 5
If I used The Lord of the Rings to ease myself back into reading, Winter Rose helped to remind me of what I love about reading in the first place.
This is a gorgeous book, dreamy and full of feelings rather than certainties. McKillip's prose comes into its own here, spare at times and lush in others as the seasons turn through her narrative. It reminded me of the possibilities of the written word, the gentle heartbreak and delicate power inherent within fantasy. The whole time I found myself wishing I could write McKillip's seemingly effortless prose, reproduce the lightness of her touch, the richness of her ambiguity.
It all works far better for me here than it did in The Book of Atrix Wolfe. Whether that means McKillip's faculties improved significantly within a year, or my tastes changed significantly over the last five, is anyone's guess. (It's probably the latter.)
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