It’s not so black and white. Lines are crossed.
Walls are smashed. Good becomes bad.
Bad becomes very, very good.
I've been talking about The Paper Swan for over a month now, a book that completely knocked me on my ass and gave me one of the most severe books hangovers I've had in a long time. I tried the usual tricks to move on: something completely different, old favorites, non-fiction, pure smut. Nothing worked. Finally I picked up Leylah Attar's first novel, 53 Letters For My Lover, and that did it! I was finally able to let go and move on.
I had originally avoided this one, thinking it couldn't possibly stack up to Paper Swan and I wanted to preserve my awe for a little while longer. I also wasn't keen on the main plot of the story, but being unable to let go, I finally picked up 53 Letters and was surprised at how it swept me away.
Come with me through the jump and I'll tell you about 53 Letters For My Lover, and why I will now read anything that Leylah Attar decides to share with us.
|How did she DO that?!?|
|I'm not crying! You're crying.|
|Rock on, with your diverse self!|
The prose with which Leylah Attar spins her tales is absolutely gorgeous. I love reading these books for the stunning word pictures that she paints:
Massive blooms of pink and green exploded in rapid succession, descending in threads of sparkling silver. Spinning comets reached for the heavens, followed by a barrage of fast and furious explosions, each hanging momentarily in the sky, mirrored perfectly in the glassy reflection of the lake. And then the grand finale—an erratic cloud of red crackles with brilliant, white stars bursting all around.As with The Paper Swan, there is a foundation of truth supporting the beautiful love story, thoughts and feelings that are applicable to each of us.
We have an infinite capacity to love, but when you wrap up your love and give it to someone, they expect all of it. And that’s what you think too—that you’re giving them everything you’ve got. You really do. Until you realize that love is end-less, bottom-less, boundary-less. The more you give, the more gushes out. It spills over, refusing to be contained in neat little parcels, swelling like a river after a flash flood. And in the end, it doesn’t matter which part was whose, because in the end it’s all one, like streams merging into the ocean.53 Letters For My Lover was a complete surprise for me. I wasn't expecting to love it, I wasn't really expecting it to help me let go and move on from the last Attar book. But I did love it, and it made me think enough that I was finally able to move on. I can confidently say that I am now a huge fan of Leylah Attar's work, and I can't wait to see what she awes me with next.