Really nice, Olivia. So vivid, especially this opening line: "hey speak of the salty air and the way spray explodes off the rocks, or the comforting squish of wet sand between your toes..."
I think my tastes tend to flip and flop when I'm reading. Sometimes I enjoy strong descriptions of settings, other times I just want to be swept away by the words and not have to think too much. But as you say, it can't be forced by the writer, it needs to feel organic and appropriate.
China Miéville's Perdido Street Station has one of the most intricate worlds (well, city, really) I've ever seen described, but it was a long, slow read because of the detail. I loved it, but I know others who have bounced off because of that aspect.
My beloved Haruki Murakimi, on the other hand, rarely describes scenes or even people in that much detail. Instead, it's all there in feeling and the veneer of the subtle strange that he somehow paints.
Really nice, Olivia. So vivid, especially this opening line: "hey speak of the salty air and the way spray explodes off the rocks, or the comforting squish of wet sand between your toes..."
I think my tastes tend to flip and flop when I'm reading. Sometimes I enjoy strong descriptions of settings, other times I just want to be swept away by the words and not have to think too much. But as you say, it can't be forced by the writer, it needs to feel organic and appropriate.
China Miéville's Perdido Street Station has one of the most intricate worlds (well, city, really) I've ever seen described, but it was a long, slow read because of the detail. I loved it, but I know others who have bounced off because of that aspect.
My beloved Haruki Murakimi, on the other hand, rarely describes scenes or even people in that much detail. Instead, it's all there in feeling and the veneer of the subtle strange that he somehow paints.