In a strange turn of events, I've been feeling a little restless and uninspired with my reading lately.
I think there's been a lot going on in my personal and professional and writing life that I'm trying to figure out and that has transpired over to my reading habits. I've just been reading much slower and feeling a little less inclined to pick up books than usual. Which, honestly, is usually how I gauge that I'm feeling off-kilter. If I don't much feel like reading...something is definitely not right in my world.
Magical realism is one of my very favorite genres when it's done right and The Night Circus gets it awe-inspiringly right. It is filled with effortlessly gorgeous writing and a setting that just left me floored with its beauty. But the thing that always makes me swoon over this genre is all the nuggets of life truths slighted away beneath that glimmer of magic.
Like this one, for example: "You may tell a tale that takes up residence in someone's soul, becomes their blood and self and purpose. That tale will move and drive them and who knows what they might do because of it, because of your words. That is your role, your gift."
These words took up residence in my soul. I don't think they shall ever leave.