Showing posts with label Daisychains of Silence by Catherine MacLeod. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Daisychains of Silence by Catherine MacLeod. Show all posts

Friday, November 11, 2011

Daisychains of Silence by Catherine MacLeod

Daisychains of Silence

I've finished a very special book this week, by one of the loveliest people I've met on this writer's journey.  I'm including my brief review below, which can't begin to describe her beautiful writing, and a link to Amazon, where you can purchase the electronic version for the meager amount of 99 cents.  It will be the best dollar you've spent in some time, I can assure you.

In Daisychains of Silence, Catherine MacLeod has sewn together a rich tapestry of images, emotions, memories—all the scraps that comprise a life.  In this case, the life is Daisy’s and we follow her from neglected childhood, to boarding school and adventurous youth, and to middle age, when a reunion with her mother forces her to reassess all that’s come before.  The relationship between Daisy and her mother is especially poignant, especially fraught with long-simmering betrayals and disappointments.  MacLeod has the eye of a photographer, a painter, an ability to draw our attention to details that matter:  a crocheted curtain, filthy from neglect, a beloved hand-made doll, cords of colored thread glistening on a well-used table, scars that form a smile.  The writing itself is evocative and poetic, at times absolutely mesmerizing as Daisy’s world is described.  Forced into an early self-reliance, Daisy learns to keep most things within and we follow her attempts to strike out and discover who she is and what she should do with herself.  But it’s a love story too, a believable love story accented with stops and starts, with mistakes made and loyalties reclaimed.  MacLeod’s characters will stay with you long after you’ve finished this lovely book, and you’ll find yourself rooting for them, each and every one, despite their flaws or maybe because of them.

Buy the book here.
"As soon as we express something, we devalue it strangely. We believe ourselves to have dived down into the depths of the abyss, and when we once again reach the surface, the drops of water on our pale fingertips no longer resemble the ocean from which they came...Nevertheless, the treasure shimmers in the darkness unchanged." ---Franz Kafka