Being a Libra, I’m a lover of beauty by my very nature. So it’s no surprise that as of late, I’ve been obsessed with beauty in all its incarnations, so much so that if I could put a beautiful man (or if times are tough, a woman) on a shelf I’d be the happiest person in the world (for a moment, because as a Libra I’m also easily bored!)

After reading Salman Rushdie’s Shalimar the Clown, I was thrilled by the release of his follow up read, The Enchantress of Florence. For those of you who have never read Rushdie, he writes such sensual, imaginative prose that it becomes painful to call it anything less than exalted poetry. Simple combinations of words entice the reader and The Enchantress is no exception. I began reading on a gorgeous summer morning while on jury duty (not anywhere near lovely!) but I found myself unable to tear myself away as Rushdie and his Enchantress wove their magic spell on me. Sitting in the courtroom waiting for my turn to be interviewed I could not tear my mind away from the pages; not because the plot captivated me but because I couldn’t wait to fall in love with an elegant Rushdian turn of phrase. (And since I’m single so there was plenty of love to go around.) I devoured the novel, taking every free moment of my days to suck the marrow from it — his skilled hand ignited something so visceral in me.
It's something like smart porn. Highly recommend going out and picking up a copy.
Enjoy!
August 22, 2008