I read The Ten Thousand Doors of January by Alix E. Harrow a while ago, and it put a damper on my book reviewing. The purpose of writing these reviews is to take time to think critically, from a craft perspective, about the books that I read for fun. The thing is, I loved this book too much to think of anything to say critically about it. And that's weighed on me for months. This book is next in line, but I have nothing to say! So I will say what I can: This is prose that you sink into, a moment after sinking into your armchair. Putting the book down is like waking up from a dream. The story unfolds, inch by inch. Things are happening, but I never felt rushed. As soon as I finished reading this I wanted to read it again. Maybe next time I do, I will be better prepared to analyze how it felt to read this, and how Harrow created that for the reader. For now, I can only say that this was the first book in a long time where I truly lost myself.
This is the writing blog of Audely Bensen.