I have been reading, Fair Play by Tove Jansson these past few days.

Something about her writing always strikes me whether it be her children’s or grown-up’s novels. It is the joyful bleakness, a let’s- don’t-take-all-this-too-seriously-even-though-we-know-we-will mood. Reading fiction for me is purely emotional. Reading what I want to read and what I want to feel. I feel space and air around me from her writing. It seems to unsnarl my everyday from my mind. Three winters ago I read The Summer Book, post-partum and needing the same feeling then as now. Tove Jansson is nearly a mythical figure in our family. I like having her writing to myself, not to share.

DSC07074 my sleeping space has been a little more crowded lately.

*linking up with Circle of Pines, The Year in Books today.



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