It is the story of a weary soldier who abates his guilt, his ghosts, both real and imagined, by burying the bones of soldiers left where they fell, on a long-forgotten battleground. It is a high fantasy that feels more like a historical. This book is not slow in its pace, but it is interspersed with reflections, narratives, observations regarding the deeper meanings underneath. Yet this book is loved, and has been beloved by me since I first read it, years ago. My mind, my eye constantly seeks novelty. I am a creature of minimal attention span. In theory, this book shouldn't have appealed to me at all. But that's the power of words, the ability to take a simple vocabulary which a grade schooler can read and assemble it in such a way that the wise can understand.

The prose is sparse, simple, direct, no dictionary required. You will find no pretentious writing here. The words in this book are to be savored, because it is poetry in prose. There are books with plots that hold your attention span from the first word to the last, filled with action, intrigue, suspense.

Words can bring that familiar sting of tears to your eyes as you read, and reread, and reread, a passage that is written with such simple poignancy. Words can be strung together in a simple sentence that makes no relevance in the context of the book, yet is so beautiful in its simplicity. Words can bring forth feelings of outraged anger.

A well-woven sentence speaks to the heart, it sings to the spirit. There is a difference between slapping words together in order to create a coherent sentence versus weaving words together in a composition of unparalleled artistry. Is there anything one can say that doesn't come off sounding trite? 'I admire everything you've done.' Really? Is there anything one can say that doesn't sound like a vast understatement, that doesn't make a person wince as they hear the clash of such stupid little words in the presence of such greatness? It is cruel how words often fail us at the most crucial moments. It's like thanking the one of the great living people on earth, someone one truly admires, like the Dalai Lama. Because my simple, stupid words are meaningless when it comes to describing the pure, untarnished brilliance of this book. In this case, in the case of my very favorite books, the right words just escape me because there's just nothing I can say. Oftentimes, it's because a book is so bad that I don't even know where to begin listing all the problems. Sometimes, words fail me when I need them most.

Under heaven kay