BookTalk.org

strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown

In Imp's case so much seems to be unknown, or known with such uncertainty that it's almost the same thing.

I don't see much resolution in the world.

I begin to feel this story will not end well for Imp. Caroline and Rosemary were both trapped with terrors so great that their only escape was to escape the body--to commit suicide. Is that Imp's destiny as well? What resolution will there be in this story?

The plot is definitely moving more firmly into the supernatural. I have mixed feelings about that. I enjoy fantasies--Neil Gaiman is one of my favorite authors--and I'm relieved to think that Imp isn't completely off her rocker. But I also enjoyed that tension of fear that this was all a creation of her schizophrenia.

It is Sunday morning and I just finished Chapter 5. Actually, I just resumed reading the book last night, after a hiatus to read one I checked out from our on-line library (more on that later).

While Imp is obviously "not all there," it seems that this story is not just what is in her mind, but to paraphrase an old TV quote, there definitely is "something out there." Mermaids and werewolves???

While not exactly about this book, I guess a discussion should also explore how it is affecting us. I know I digress here, but... As I wrote at the start of this post, I left The Drowning Girl to read a book I got from our on-line library, Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn. I read/am reading both of these on my Kindle, and am glad I am. Both Caitlin and Gillian have a tendency to use obscure words, and it is nice to just push a botton or two to access my in-device dictionary, instead of having to get up and go find my print one. Also nice to know that I am still learning new thins in my 70s.

By the way, the poem Imp quotes is "The Lobster Quadrille" from Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland. It is reproduced here, enjoy:

“Will you walk a little faster?” said a whiting to a snail,
“There’s a porpoise close behind us, and he’s treading on my
tail.
See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance!
They are waiting on the shingle—will you come and join the
dance?
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will you join the
dance?
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the
dance?

“You can really have no notion how delightful it will be
When they take us up and throw us, with the lobsters, out
to sea!"
But the snail replied, “Too far, too far!” and gave a look
askance—

Said he thanked the whiting kindly, but he would not join
the dance.
Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not join
the dance.
Would not, could not, would not, could not, could not join
the dance.

“What matters it how far we go?” his scaly friend replied.
“There is another shore, you know, upon the other side.
The further off from England the nearer is to France—
Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the
dance.
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, will you join the
dance?
Will you, won’t you, will you, won’t you, won’t you join the
dance?”