|
Hedi H
, May 05, 2013
Ted Olinger intimately knows the power of language.
The volume consists of ten personal essays depicting life on the Key Peninsula, in Puget Sound, where the residents are as quirky as the street names. The descriptions are rich with sensory details, the characters could not be more authentic, and the dialogues are genuine.
The imagery lulls you, lights up the sky, or punches you in the gut. Olinger uses language like other people use music: to lift you, make you fly, then bring you down, sometimes in a crash.
For those who find it difficult to categorize either the genre or message of the collection, here’s a word of advice: when you sit, dumbfounded, after reading a chapter, page, or line, you know you have an exceptional book in your hands. That was my experience with Olinger’s book. I had the urge to turn the page and read on, yet I felt the need to linger and process the page I had just read. Only outstanding literature provides this ambivalent conflict in the reader.
|