Wizard of the Pigeons

Wedding in three weeks has completely incapacitated my ability to streng coherent sentences together in a purposeful manner.

I am reading Megan Lindholm, Wizard of the Pigeons. Enjoying it very much. It possesses the realist fantasy qualties of Peter Beagle without his postmodern abandon. Not that I am at all critical of postmodern abandon–but where I’m concerned, its use moves Beagle into the category of postmodern fantasy, whereas I am all gung ho to claim Megan Lindholm for magic realism. Yah magic realism. I should ask the Interfictions people how that reckless categorization fits with their definition. Anyhow, the cover of my 1986 Ace copy (courtesy Erin H) is beautiful, and the writing within is strikingly understated in style and just full of dramatic depth. Wizard is a real tragic figure, one I empathize with deeply.

Going to read more now.

One comment

  1. Hahaha.

    Erin H. gave me a copy as well a month or two ago. I wonder if she has a bunch stashed away somewhere. Maybe I’ll start on Wiz of P tomorrow on the subway.

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