Here is line 10 on page 100 - 'In the Labyrinth', by Alain Robbe-Grillet (translated by Christine Brook-Rose) Calder Publications, 2000, then followed on a little by me:
marks made before him. His boot is a little larger but
only when he stood still and examined the outline of the print in the sand before him did he become aware that perhaps he was not alone. Grey. Steel grey. The horizon line a razor blade's edge, slicing the sky away from the sea. The tide was pulling back, as it had always done; over days, weeks, months, years. Even centuries. In pulling back, the low water line revealed the jagged outline of the reef, its raised backbone like a reptile's back, dark against the horizon, and the quick slow movement of a figure, human, stepping, hesitating inland towards the shore.
I love this, Julius! What an intriguing start to a story – I can picture the scene you’ve set and now I’m wondering who was there and why they’ve left so mysteriously. Thanks for sharing!
Until i was 17, I spent months every year in an isolated, fly-in only fly-fishing tourist camp in northern Canada that my parents owned. No electricity or flush toilets but, with every bi-monthly bush plane that brought in new fishermen and took out departing guests was a brown box from the Montreal library with 12 new books, three each for my parents and me and my brother. That box of books was a lifeline to the outside world. I quickly read my three books and moved on to my brother’s and parent’s—in hind-site I probably read what would be considered age inappropriate books at times. 😀 I can’t think of a more fulfilling life than working in a library. The next time around, maybe. This was a fun post to read, thanks!
Wow! What an experience. A flying library! It sounds really exciting but I imagine you have to think really carefully about the three books you choose each time. Although perhaps you appreciate the books more as they’re so precious.
Thanks so much for sharing this, Joy. I feel like there’s a reading/writing exercise here 🙃
Here is line 10 on page 100 - 'In the Labyrinth', by Alain Robbe-Grillet (translated by Christine Brook-Rose) Calder Publications, 2000, then followed on a little by me:
marks made before him. His boot is a little larger but
only when he stood still and examined the outline of the print in the sand before him did he become aware that perhaps he was not alone. Grey. Steel grey. The horizon line a razor blade's edge, slicing the sky away from the sea. The tide was pulling back, as it had always done; over days, weeks, months, years. Even centuries. In pulling back, the low water line revealed the jagged outline of the reef, its raised backbone like a reptile's back, dark against the horizon, and the quick slow movement of a figure, human, stepping, hesitating inland towards the shore.
I love this, Julius! What an intriguing start to a story – I can picture the scene you’ve set and now I’m wondering who was there and why they’ve left so mysteriously. Thanks for sharing!
Until i was 17, I spent months every year in an isolated, fly-in only fly-fishing tourist camp in northern Canada that my parents owned. No electricity or flush toilets but, with every bi-monthly bush plane that brought in new fishermen and took out departing guests was a brown box from the Montreal library with 12 new books, three each for my parents and me and my brother. That box of books was a lifeline to the outside world. I quickly read my three books and moved on to my brother’s and parent’s—in hind-site I probably read what would be considered age inappropriate books at times. 😀 I can’t think of a more fulfilling life than working in a library. The next time around, maybe. This was a fun post to read, thanks!
Wow! What an experience. A flying library! It sounds really exciting but I imagine you have to think really carefully about the three books you choose each time. Although perhaps you appreciate the books more as they’re so precious.
Thanks so much for sharing this, Joy. I feel like there’s a reading/writing exercise here 🙃