". . . because at the secret heart of madness, at the core of so many errors, so many absurdities, so many words and gestures without consequence, we discover, finally, the hidden perfection of a language. The ultimate language of madness is that of reason,” Foucault writes.
“Think about medieval times, Danny, like when this castle was built. People were constantly seeing ghosts, having visions—they thought Christ was sitting with them at the dinner table, they thought angels and devils were flying around. We don't see those things anymore. Why? Was all that stuff happening before and then it stopped? Unlikely. Was everyone nuts in medieval times? Doubtful. But their imaginations were more active. Their inner lives were rich and weird.” - Jennifer Egan.
“But men labour under a mistake. The better part of the man is soon ploughed into the soil for compost.” When I read it at first, I thought “Well, thanks for pointing that out but I have to work so too bad.”
This is the sort of fantasy that I would like to see rise to the top of the genre. It isn’t violent or raunchy, and it could easily be enjoyed by someone who doesn’t normally read fantasy. And most of all, it provides the reader with rich escapism.
What makes someone a good person? Being a hero? Following passions? These might be qualifications in the eyes of most, but not in the eyes of David Brooks.
Sometimes fiction stays in its pages and only comes to life when it’s read. But some fiction spreads like wildfire, well beyond the pages it’s told on and into the hearts and minds of millions.