Mortal Love


I’ve seen this book online many times, but when I happened upon it in the library I could not resist its call. How can I not be tempted to read a book with a Rossetti stunner gracing the cover?

At this point, I am about 100 pages into the tale. The language is lush and gorgeous. I’m loving Hand’s use of imagery and color. And if you know me at all,I’m sure you understand that I was entranced at the first mention of Lizzie Siddal’s name and how casually and beautifully it was woven into the narrative. Nor would it surprise you to know how thrilled I was when Ophelia is mentioned:

“He had been utterly chastened when, a week before, he finally say Millais’s Ophelia at the Tate. That emerald glamour, the astonishing veracity of his bluebells and mashwort! Radbone had never come close to capturing anything like it – and “capture” is what it felt like, that sense of ravishing a live thing, then imprisoning it upon page or canvas.”

Now I feel compelled to end this post; the book is beckoning. I’ll post a lengthier review upon completion.

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