@dlowan,
Yes! So beautiful! My father used to go away on business and the smaller children in my family would take turns sleeping with my mother when he was gone - there were four of us who wanted to because it was exactly as he describes it:
Quote:
I was still young enough then to be sleeping with my Mother, which to me seemed life's whole purpose. We slept together in the first floor bedroom on a flock-filled mattress in a bed of brass rods and curtains. Alone, at that time, of all the family, I was her chosen dream companion, chosen from all for her extra love; my right, so it seemed to me.
So in the ample night and the thickness of her hair I consumed my fattened sleep, drawsed and nuzzling to her warmth of flesh, blessed by her bed and safety. From the width of the house and the separation of the day, we two then lay joined alone. That darkness to me was like the fruit of sloes, heavy and ripe to the touch. It was a darkness of bliss and simple langour, when all edges seemed rounded, apt and fitting; and the presence for whom one had moaned and hungered was found not to have fled at all.
My mother, freed from her noisy day, would sleep like a happy child, humped in her nightdress, breathing innocently, and making soft drinking sounds in the pillow. In her flights of dream she held me close, like a parachute to her back; or rolled and enclosed me with her great tired body so that I was snug as a mouse in a hayrick.
They were deep and jealous, those wordless nights, as we curled and muttered together, like a secret I held through the waking day which set me above all others. It was for me alone that the night came down, for me the prince of her darkness, when only I would know the huge helplessness of her sleep, her dead face and her blind bare arms.
Every chapter, I'm struck by the language and either straight out pathos (as in the hangman incident) or humor (first school). I think he was an amazing writer and from what I hear, person.
His imagery and phrasing is wonderful - 'dream companion' 'deep and jealous wordless nights, and this:
Quote:That darkness to me was like the fruit of sloes, heavy and ripe to the touch. It was a darkness of bliss and simple langour, when all edges seemed rounded, apt and fitting; and the presence for whom one had moaned and hungered was found not to have fled at all.
A friend of mine checked this out of the library and handed it to me saying, 'I think you would really love this book - whether you like it or not - it should be read.'
I'm only wondering why I've never heard of him or read him before. The title of the book sounds vaguely familiar - I know I've heard the title, but I don't remember ever hearing the name, Laurie Lee.
Well, now I have. It's one of my treasured books now too - I'll have to fork over and buy a copy of this one.
) wandering around a battle field , pondering the meaning of it all ... at great length. At times I felt his desire to communicate his personal philosophy to the reader interfered, almost, with what was otherwise a terrific yarn! 
