Mystery. Superstition. Legends. Disappearances. Death. Truth and Reality.
Sore throat. Piles of laundry. Dirty dishes.
These two lists have nothing in common.
EXCEPT that they do, because two days ago when I was curled up with a cold for company (second list), I also read G. K. Chesteron’s The Trees of Pride(first list).
It’s a short story about four chapters long. Chesterton seems to be a genius at making things to seem exactly what they aren’t; in short, as my friend who recommended this author said, he is the master of the paradox. What appears to be a British mystery proves to be a beautifully-written story that (to put it in a scholarly way) blew my mind.
Ah, Chesterton. At the moment, you’re over my foggy little head, but this won’t be the last time we meet. Perhaps the next time, I will better know how to read you.
Enjoy The Trees of Pride below. http://www.gutenberg.org/files/1721/1721-h/1721-h.htm#link2H_4_0002
And P.S.: the real Trees ofPride look nothing like my picture, in case that wasn’t already apparent. 😉