I guess I'll put something in here describing myself and my tastes. I'm best described as a bespectacled scruff in my late twenties with a liking for the unusual, and a severe need of distraction. I've walked a well-worn path to fantasy, I suppose; some of my fondest memories are of a half-darkened room, and my father's voice reading 'Lord of the Rings' to me, and my mother being there in the room because she wanted to hear it too. I gave up on proper English as a degree because I wasn't allowed to read about magic without thinking about how I'd write about it in an essay, and as a result I'm a lot happier in my reading, thank you very much.
I'm fond of things which are quietly esoteric without the need for explosions; things like Robert Holdstock's Mythago Wood series, Susan Cooper's Dark is Rising sequence, Gaiman's recent stuff, and the Gormenghast trilogy holding special places in my heart. Another recent favourite is KJ Bishop's 'The Etched City' as a nice bit of fantasy-tinged existentialist angst centered on the most interesting stories of all- how people (often families, or children) feel about amazing things that happen to them.
Err, there, that is all. I can't help but feel that this has turned into an exercise in self-absorption. but, well, there it is. And Hello.
You know, Ondine, that mention of Enid Blyton might just get me out and looking for that book; it was sadly lacking in my childhood...
How did we get so lucky. Can't wait to read it.
