Lighthousekeeping

Tell me a story, Silver. 

What story?

The story of Tristan and Isolde.

In Tristan, the world shrinks to a boat, a bed, a lantern, a love-potion, a wound. The world is contained within a word - Isolde.

Where did love begin? What human being looked at another and saw in their face the forests and the sea? Was there a day, exhausted and weary, dragging home food, arms cut and scarred, that you saw yellow flowers and, not knowing what you did, picked them because I love you?

The world was made so that we could find each other in it. Already the world is fading, returning to the sea. My pulse ebbs with yours. Death frees us from the torment of parting. I cannot part with you. I am you.

The world is nothing. Love formed it.

The world vanishes without a trace.
What is left is love.

I just finished reading Lighthousekeeping by Jeanette Winterson, and her writing gives me chills. It's been a while since I've been so floored by a new book but this is such beautiful, poetic, passionate, perfect retelling of the operatic version of Tristan and Isolde, which I've always found doesn't get enough literary adaptation love. She absolutely captures the spirit of the opera and I just want to read it over and over again.

Also, so, so excited for the Met to do a new production of Tristan und Isolde in 2016. So excited.