I'd been wondering why the experience of reading this book evoked a nostalgia for my childhood, until I recognized its similarities to the works of L.M. Montgomery, of Anne of Green Gables fame.
Interweaving dreams and their analysis in a single text, the book evokes the demented rationality that we associate with Borges.
At other points, the book evokes the cottage hymns of Katharine Tynan, the pure formal eccentricity of Emily Dickinson, and the dread-laced, detonating uncertainty of W. B. Yeats.
Declaring that "even the town dweller is a country man at heart," the book evokes a world of thatched cottages, like the one shown in 1903, with its caldron over an open fire and haddock smoking on the beam above.
In the seemingly innumerable ways that the book evokes rock music, as my colleagues in the club have written about widely and well, it is in this overarching — and yes, nearly arch — confidence that prose, like a perfect pop song, ought to be able to kill you with a line.
Though it's a work of kung-fu fiction, the book evokes the central Chinese metaphor of writing history: the mirror, an edifice of the past that we gaze at, seeking glimmers of the present.
At its best, the book evokes not only the pleasure of music, but the connection between that experience and the joy of sports: When I think back on it now, the look on Jimi's face between songs that day was a look I know all too well: It was the look of someone who has just hit a home run.
The powerlessness the book evokes, of blacks not being able to protect their own bodies and property, is a feat of courage amidst the sea of generally disingenuous positivity concerning racial matters in this country.
In its scope, its moral seriousness, its paradoxically ponderous and engrossing narrative, the book evokes the high Victorian mode, spiced with the spooky plot twists and playfully devious teases of the equally high Gothic ― the literary styles of the period in which the book is set.
This fascinating book evokes the cultural climate -- the feverish idiom of the editorialists, the scramble among the fashionable for courtroom tickets -- that defined what the editors, James L. Swanson and Daniel R. Weinberg, suggest was a thoroughly commercialized and media-driven series of events.
