Think of a scent that you love. Can you imagine how you would feel when you smell it? In The Night Circus, there is a tent full of little bottles, each with their own story of a certain day on the beach, the overpowering sweetness of certain candies, intimacy with a lover in a field of wild grass, a nostalgic campfire over which you can almost smell laughter filing the air. “Wine is bottle poetry” as a quote was mentioned separately, but it’s a testament to the powerful ways in which the author places with the senses.
The Night Circus is filled with beautiful sentences. It’s why I created the “beautiful sentences” category for this blog:
You may tell a tale that takes up residence in someone’s soul, becomes their blood and self and purpose. That tale will move them and drive them and who knows what they might do because of it, because of your words.
I’m fascinated by storytelling, and/but I’m not yet skilled in that area. I’m working on it because it’s true that it’s not insights and facts that change us, but people and plot twists we hear once but repeat many times.
The false face had been handsome, yes, but consciously so. As though he was too aware of his own attractiveness, something Celia found distinctly unappealing.
The author, Erin, is precise with her words. She makes soft, abstract notes about feeling concrete and visual.
We lead strange lives, chasing our dreams around from place to place.
The Night Circus has a group of fans — people who see the circus as a second home, a place where they finally feel they belong. When they meet another fan (demarked by their black attire with a splash of red, perhaps a scarf or a flower), they feel as if they have known that person all their lives.
You think, as you walk away from Le Cirque des Reves and into the creeping dawn, that you felt more awake within the confines of the circus. You are no longer quite certain which side of the fence is the dream.
Perhaps the most adamant realists are also the most strongly affected by moments of surrealism?