Lud-In-The-Mist

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I’m reading this book for the third time now, and I can’t for the life of me figure out why.

I mean, it’s good. I picked it up the first time because it came with high recommendations from famous and genius fantasy writers. I picked it up the second time because I wanted to give it another chance, not having been particularly impressed the first time. And now I’ve picked it up again and I’m halfway through, and I’m not sure why.

The novel deals with the difference between dreams and reality, with where the world made by man meets the world as it is (whether we like it or not). It deals with how we relate to each other, how we imagine, how we live with our imaginings. And it deals with the fears we don’t name.

It’s well written. The characters are memorable for their strangeness. Indeed, there’s something distinctly odd, strange, and most of all UNCANNY about this novel.

I’m reading it again, when I usually never even read books twice. It’s one of two books I’ve read three times.

Maybe it’s because I don’t really understand it that I’ve been drawn back to it. Maybe it’s because the world it paints, more than any other, more than many real worlds, feels like a place that could be around the corner. Maybe it’s because the book has so many layers that it rewards slow and repetitive reading.

And maybe, it’s just because I’m trying to figure out the why behind the strangeness, the answer behind the uncanny dream.

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