It's not that I don't enjoy reading it, or that it's not my kind of book. I do and it is ... it's just that I've been slacking.
Blogging, crafting and sleeping have eaten into my reading time ... a lapse which I must rectify because, when I do make the effort to sit and read Wolf Hall[oh, OK then, it's often more like I make the effort to lay and read Wolf Hall] I am overwhelmed by the quality of the writing and the freshness and originality of Mantel's descriptive prose. Prose like this .....
"It is June, 1527; well barbered and curled, tall and still trim from certain angles, and wearing white silk, the king makes his way to his wife's apartments. He moves in a perfumed cloud made of the essence of roses: as if he owns all the roses, owns all the summer nights."
Hilary Mantel Wolf Hall
After reading a passage as exquisite as that [and the 650 page novel is filled with such gems] I often stop to pause. I pause ... then I re-read it tracing my finger over every inch of it trying to uncover the source of it's genius ... most likely with my mouth open and my tongue poking out in concentration ... then I'll emit a sigh of approval usually accompanied by a slow shake of the head at its cleverness.
Next, after a few tours around it's construction I'll prod James and read it aloud to him just to share my latest treasure. He'll then say something pacifying such as 'Yes, very good' ... I'll say 'How do people write like that?' and then dreamily return to the book...
... and if I was looking for a further explanation for my paltry reading record of late, I'd say that when you're going through that rigmarole every few pages ... well, how can I be expected to power through 650 of them in a few days??
Well, that's my excuse anyway ......
Photo details: A rose in the gardens of Newby Hall June 09.