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Post Info TOPIC: Graham, the thrill of his style and stories


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Posts: 883
Date: Nov 23 7:05 PM, 2018
RE: Graham, the thrill of his style and stories
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Clowance gets some lovely lines.  She is the tot who appears at the door of the parlour to defuse the taut situation between Ross and Demelza the night Hugh Armitage died.  When you read beyond The Miller's Dance, Dave, you will find she continues to surprise and delight.

I agree the writing does change throughout the twelve books.  You could say that it is developing all through the first seven novels, although of course it is masterful to begin with; but in the later books events, dire though some of them are, are interspersed with some even more beautiful prose, wonderful descriptions of the smallest things.

Having recently finished reading through them all yet again, I was faced with the usual dilemma - what to read next!  Fortunately, I belong to a book club, which dictates to some extent at least one book each month.

 



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Student

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Posts: 215
Date: Nov 21 4:44 AM, 2018
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Papa, you wasnt here.

No, my dear, I was lazy. Ill take you both out tomorrow.

Where, Papa, where?

I dont know. Somewhere.

Even if it rains?

It wont rain if I tell it not to!

Ooh, thats a fib, said Clowance, opening her eyes wide at him.

True enough. Youre just like your mother; you see right through me.

Ross, thats not true either, said Demelza. Well, half way.

Verity said: I agree: she sees through the dark part to the nice part.

The Angry Tide:  (pp. 200-201). Kindle Edition.

This amazes me. The genius of Graham that can reveal so much about the characters of Clowance, Ross, Demelza, and especially Verity with just a few words of dialogue.



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Student

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Date: Nov 21 4:20 AM, 2018
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Thank you Stella Poldark and Mrs. Gimlett for encouraging me to continue with the books after I finished T.A.T. I would have missed some wonderful writing and stories.

The Miller's Dance I believe is Graham's finest writing so far. His writing in this book assumes a lyrical feel to it. Graham's many descriptions of the sky are just wonderful.

Here a few of my favorites.

Friday was lowering, with nothing to illumine either sky or sea until late in the afternoon when a red grin appeared in the west where the sun was about to set.

  (p. 30).  Kindle Edition.

The setting sun had edged its way behind an escarpment of cloud, and the upper sky was ethereal, a thousand miles high, as if you were looking up at Heaven.

 (p. 400).  Kindle Edition.

And this is my favorite.

The sun streamed out of a remote pale aniline sky, so different from the peacock blues of yesterday,

 The Miller's Dance: (p. 474).  Kindle Edition.

 

 I read the text, my mind has an image.



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