“Daniel wouldn’t hear of any attempt to turn monologue to conversation.” p41
The Thin Place by Kathryn Davis is the kind of book you read with a pen and paper at the ready. It is the kind of book that you read slowly, because the sentences take navigation. And, it is the kind of book that you need to read fast because the moment you let your mind wander the whole thing begins to unravel. It is like trying to wind your way through a dream where things only make sense if you concentrate on them.
I don’t know if I’ll like this book. I’m 100 pages into it, over a third of the way, and still I’ve my hands stretched out in front of me trying not to fall. I think my brain is finally letting go of the misconceptions it formed selecting the book. (I wish the Book Mooch wish-list function had a place to write down where you’d heard of a book) I thought it was a historical and not as in the “past couple of decades” sense. I seemed to have completely missed the first lines about the early years of the 21st century. The brain so convince of other things. I thought the main girls were teenagers, and spent several chapters convinced of that too.
I don’t know how I got so lost to be confused by sentence two. There is a pace to the book. It shifts every chapter, but is always flowing quietly like water. Part of me wants to skip ahead to the Reader’s Guide in the back, that part of me that always read the questions first on a standardize test so that I wouldn’t miss what I was supposed to be looking for. But, I don’t want to spoil it. I’m already in a third of the way.
The narrators change ever chapter. Each voice, a new puzzle to exam and try to make fit. Even the dogs and the world itself get it due. I can’t tell you what is going on, or even if I’ll like the book when it is done. Its tale played out. Maybe this one is about the journey; is that too cliché? No, I don’t like books that are great, but for the ending. Or the language is nice, but I didn’t get it. I hope the promise of the back is fulfilled and I get the wonder and myth.
“The three girls continued walking, letting the chatter of the brook stand in for speech, their thoughts running around and around the dark corridors of their brains like mice, hearts ticking a mile a minute, unable to see a thing and endlessly squeaking, trapped in a maze the point of which remained beyond comprehension.” P99