![]() ![]() What’s particularly remarkable about A Solitary Blue is that it’s a story of becoming, told in a way that I don’t think many other stories are. On a practical level, I’m dazzled by Voigt’s efficacy and memory, but on an emotional level, I’m in the scene and living every inch of it. A name pops up that’s familiar or a circumstance and suddenly the book becomes a panopticon and I’m stood in the middle of a moment seeing it from a thousand different angles. ![]() I’m conscious that there is an order but I rather love this way of discovering her world, of discovering the echoes within it. I’ve read much of the Tillerman saga out of order, picking them up from charity shops and libraries as and when circumstance allowed. I don’t quite understand how she can find the emotional nuance of a moment and exploit it, so acutely, without you even noticing what she’s doing. And so I did, for some things are inevitable and Voigt’s writing makes me ache with an absolute jealous and love for it is perfect. ![]() I’d written about my fairly recent discovery of her work, a journey which had made me fall in love with her crisp and clean writing, so full of clarity and heart and texture at every inch, and I had realised that I would read more of her work. When I tweeted about reading this book, I said that Cynthia Voigt was increasingly proving to be all that I want from a writer. ![]()
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