The Sea

John Banville

The waves seemed to trill, dazzling in the bright sunshine, lapping my limbs, awash. Snoodling canoodling over my broken arms, broken body..., mending spirit. Oh beauteous beauteuos aquamarine shores, rows and rows of ephemereal, ullulate, ullulte the soul. Soul.

What a beginning to what an end. Like Banville said after the Booker ceremony, it is indeed the triumph of art, of literary fiction, winning this prize. It redeems us all. Gives such hope. You can write poetic prose, be accused of 'overwriting', and still needn't despair. Hmm, my classmates told me the same thing a few times. Rejoice, give grass blades wings, exhaust pipes new lease of life, slicing elbows razor vision.

I appreaciate minimalism, maximalism and everything in between, and believe that as long as you are confident, you can pull it off. And as long as it's first rate. Like Banville's book is.

Btw, The first paragraph is not Banville's, it's my pathetic attempt at a homage to The Sea.