Fforde's novels remind me of a C.S. Lewis anecdote I read recently, by E. R. Eddison:
...a writer's task, I maintained, was to lay bare the human heart, and this could not be done if he were continually taking refuge in the spinning of fanciful webs. Lewis retorted with a theory that, since the creator had seen fit to build a universe and set it in motion, it was the duty of the human artist to create as lavishly as possible in turn. The romancer, who invents a whole world, is worshipping God more effectively than the mere realist who analyses that which lies about him.
No comments:
Post a Comment