When Stories Are Harder to BearI like a book that will speak with me of spider webs, nightingales, an Adonis tree, even the blinding of a fox named Scheherazade. What really lives inside an egg of Amber? Where in the world is Smyrna? How does kismet devour the apple of a person's other plans for their life? For the last 10 days, afraid to have it end too soon, I have been lost in the so specific genius of Alev Lytle Croutier and her "Seven Houses." I slowed myself to a reader's crawl, all through these opening days of cold and Parisian rain. I've been basking in the vaporous warm hammam of its pages, and I did not want it to end. I wanted a world of a thousand nights and petals and the third eye of houses who may speak as witnesses to history, and tell me secrets I could never know, or invent. Maybe I wanted to escape this week's news reports of a world I no longer dare to understand. Of couse I did. And I wished to hear, with a little gentleness, of that region of the globe that I, or many, misapprehend. What may it have been like, once upon a time, in lands that border Iran and Iraq? What kind of women were growing up, there? I wanted to learn it through the pen of a wise and mysterious writer. So I found her.Croutier is a story teller extraordinaire, and more. And she is a most useful kind of a poet, and more. When language is exalted by story and story is exalted by language, "quel plaisir." Get the point? I loved it.Read "Seven Houses," and dream with its veils and its unveiling. Read it and discover a family you might not wish for your own, but one you want to pursue through its emergence - from a time when story counted for everything, to a time when the stories are harder and harder to bear. Margo Berdeshevsky/ Paris/ October, 2002
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