From the reading room -

"Near the Skirt of the Island"
digital collage by Mick Mather
- created with typoGenerator -

This post came straight out of a novel, Perelandra, by C. S. Lewis. As can be discovered by following the link, this is the second book in his Space Trilogy. Today, Lewis is probably much better known for his children's book series, The Chronicles of Narnia. I didn't find this read particularly spellbinding although the struggle between the main character and the devil toward the latter third of the story came somewhat close to, what is for me, a page turner. The first book in the series, Out of the Silent Planet, was dry white toast, yet I struggled through it. The last of the trilogy, That Hideous Strength, is finally something I've settled into with excitement although it remains to prove itself over the next 300 or so pages. In any case, these books, not unlike the Harry Potter Series in style, are written for the English tongue and ear and may not be for everyone's taste. So, taking a breath as I wend my way, taking the long way home, the title of this evening's post is one of the lines from Perelandra that struck me between the eyes as I read it, reread and went back three or four times to read it again. Into the typoGenerator it went, finally, and here you have it.