October 22, 2012 § Leave a comment
Their Eyes Were Watching God’s prose sounds like poetry. Perhaps it’s the rhythm, perhaps it’s the imagery. This book is one that takes its time. It oozes into you like golden syrup poured into a bowl. Slowly, thickly, beautifully.
On this autumn morning, it makes me dream of long, hot summer evenings in the deep South. I like Autumn, but hearing about the sun is nice every once in a while.