This lovely book arrived in my life like a gently spinning and falling snowflake.
Ha! That is NOT TRUE! It’s the kind of book one feels should arrive in such a manner, because it would be just dandy if the simple, quiet poetry of the pages seeped into your real, non-reading life. In actual fact, the book was a bit of a wrangle to procure. I was in a dip with nothing to read, and asked someone (whose previous recommendations sprinkle this blog) to suggest something. This was on her short list but I had to ask someone else if I could borrow it. Not especially difficult, but a whole lot more mundane than that lovely dancing snowflake.
The Snow Child reminded me a little of A. S. Byatt’s writing, in the sense that it reads like a fable or fairytale, although it wasn’t densely packed with information and allusions and ideas. Ivey tells the story with strong, clean, simple lines, like a piece of Shaker furniture. It was a pleasure to read.