Some rare sentences are like photographs; revealing a thousand word story in an amazingly brief format. Although I am no where near that accomplished yet, many writers are and I am captured by their skill like an elite addict is captured by an exquisite wine; tasting the flavour over and over; reluctant to move on because this heavenly morsel demands all of my attention. Just yesterday my husband and I discussed his perceived conception that the difference between literary works and genre works, mysteries for example, is that literary works take longer to get through because one keeps rereading the juicy bits. Well, many mystery novels are literary works then because some sentences just won’t let me go. If the plot wasn’t so compelling I would still be on page one hundred and twenty-nine, following the next victim down the wind swept autumn street, crisp leaves underfoot and old ladies peering through lace curtains.
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