
I just finished one of the most heart-achingly beautiful books I have ever read. Ray Bradbury's Dandelion Wine consists of a series of vignettes that take place during the summer of 1928 in Greentown, Illinois. Each episode is written with extreme sensory richness and sensitivity. The book shifts point of view often, though many of the stories are seen through the eyes of Douglas Spaulding, a 12 year-old boy learning lessons about life and death during one golden season. If you read it, you'll be treated to such delicious passages as this:
"...One night each week, he was allowed to leave his father, his mother, and his younger brother Tom asleep in their small house next door and run here, up the dark spiral stairs to his grandparents' cupola, and in this sorcerer's tower sleep with thunders and visions, to wake before the crystal jingle of milk bottles and perform his ritual magic.
He stood at the open window in the dark, took a deep breath, and exhaled.
The street lights, like candles on a black cake, went out. He exhaled again and again, and the stars began to vanish."
And that's only in the first chapter! Bradbury recently released a sequel, entitled Farewell Summer.
I can't wait to read it, though I think I will wait a few weeks, and let Dandelion Wine's spell last a bit longer.
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