I recently reread A. S. Byatt’s absolutely wonderful book, Possession. It’s a book that’s basically catnip for me, a story of writers and academics, myths and poetry, romance and heartbreak. I loved it again, this read. Just as much, or maybe even more than I loved it the first time I read it. But I was struck, deeply, by how differently I read it this time.
To possess the truth
To possess the truth
To possess the truth
I recently reread A. S. Byatt’s absolutely wonderful book, Possession. It’s a book that’s basically catnip for me, a story of writers and academics, myths and poetry, romance and heartbreak. I loved it again, this read. Just as much, or maybe even more than I loved it the first time I read it. But I was struck, deeply, by how differently I read it this time.