The Secret of Lost Things, is altogether enchanting, not least by virtue of its exquisitely lyrical prose:The labyrinthine city waited. It anticipated me. I was swallowed whole, surrounded by a populace buzzing and purposeful, a remedy for grief and a goad to it. I was utterly alone, and lived at first without the imposition of order, too scattered and overwhelmed to effect any. . . . My own voice was alien and took my ear strangely.
from Frank Wilson: Philadelphia Inquirer: Through the prism of enchantment
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