I was just re-reading that essay written after the end of Restraint about AU's and RPF's and it occurred to me that while I would LOVE to see this as a film or mini-series, I think the comments are right, your novel would never survive the creation process.
But. But. I wanted you to know that the writing was so evocative, that I feel as though I have watched the mini-series. I feel the imagery and when I close my eyes, I can see Tristan in the flower of his manhood, just coming out into the garden at Ravensworth, smiling his unguarded smile at John. And John, returning it with just a bit or reserve and still, after the slow, honeyed weeks of summer, that blush on his cheeks of modesty.
I have been to England and to a number of those crumbled, older estates and I can feel the lush green of the English Summer, the thick aroma of roses and lavender that hangs in the air. That solid unchanging mass of stone and old glass that makes up the older manor houses. It's just a tiny stretch for me to place John in those gardens. To have Tristan swing down from his horse and breathlessly call across the garden wall.
So you see, you've done a remarkable job of making this happen for all of us readers. How you have affected me, how deeply I was moved by Restraint, is difficult for me to textually render. I keep saying thank you because that is our culturally approved way of showing gratitude. But what I feel is deeper and more turbulent than mere gratitude. Restraint changed me.
And that is a rare gift.
I apologize for my lengthy reply. You are a remarkable human being.
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I was just re-reading that essay written after the end of Restraint about AU's and RPF's and it occurred to me that while I would LOVE to see this as a film or mini-series, I think the comments are right, your novel would never survive the creation process.
But. But. I wanted you to know that the writing was so evocative, that I feel as though I have watched the mini-series. I feel the imagery and when I close my eyes, I can see Tristan in the flower of his manhood, just coming out into the garden at Ravensworth, smiling his unguarded smile at John. And John, returning it with just a bit or reserve and still, after the slow, honeyed weeks of summer, that blush on his cheeks of modesty.
I have been to England and to a number of those crumbled, older estates and I can feel the lush green of the English Summer, the thick aroma of roses and lavender that hangs in the air. That solid unchanging mass of stone and old glass that makes up the older manor houses. It's just a tiny stretch for me to place John in those gardens. To have Tristan swing down from his horse and breathlessly call across the garden wall.
So you see, you've done a remarkable job of making this happen for all of us readers. How you have affected me, how deeply I was moved by Restraint, is difficult for me to textually render. I keep saying thank you because that is our culturally approved way of showing gratitude. But what I feel is deeper and more turbulent than mere gratitude. Restraint changed me.
And that is a rare gift.
I apologize for my lengthy reply. You are a remarkable human being.