I am 45 pages into this shorter (175 page) book, which popped up in social media? Goodreads? I don’t quite remember. Book recommendations are ubiquitous now; but for some reason, I flagged it. And for some reason, it was there, aquatic blue, on the library shelf.
Not usually my read, I grabbed it hesitantly. My hands were sweaty in my gloves and they slipped on the library protector jacket. Not sure if that meant I should put it back, or grip harder to its’ spine.
It’s free to take a risk at the library. So I checked it out.
If I told you the plot, you would snore. Literally it’s about this group of people who go to the pool regularly. It talks about lane speeds, Monopoly towels, and Alice — who is in the beginning stages of dementia. Not exactly dragon battles and epic ghost stories like I usually go for.
But I am pulled in — like a swallowing black hole. The writing itself; the craft and the use of words, rest gently on all of my senses. The shorter sentences braided with complex, descriptive portions make this book just a beautiful read. It takes a different kind of reading, doesn’t it, to read a book that is well-written, and wherein the plot doesn’t really matter?
Have you read any books like that? If so, what were they? Have you, if you are a teacher, used pieces such as this as mentor texts, just to help students appreciate the beauty of visceral images words can provide?
Heidi Allum 
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