Yesterday we talked with my friend about John Ronald Reuel Tolkien and George Raymond Richard Martin. We agreed that both authors works is epic, but Martin is cruel author. There are so many moments where Tolkien could write terrible scenes of violence and death which, undoubtedly, have taken place whether real events. Betrayal, clouded mind and corruption, but not cruelty had founded their places in Tolkien’s book. In Martin’s books a cruelty and violence appear everywhere arising out of the dirtiest and most vile ambition of mankind. Therefore I do not like his work and I can not read it, no matter how trying to make myself.
Just yesterday we remembered Ted Williams. In the evening instead to complete my work and make Inspiration I dropped everything and read The Burning Man. The reason is simple – curiosity, and a short story – a good opportunity to get acquainted with the author and decide if I want to read more.
The story captured me so much that I woke up in my own kitchen in silence, a pile of thoughts and images in my head. Cat sleeping peacefully on my knees, neighbors, and it was 8pm, for some reason have been very quiet, and no car drove down the street. Silence like jumped out of the story and spread over the apartment.
I spent the rest of the evening reading The Dragonbone Chair.