This week sees the launch of the everrumble by Michelle Elvy, and I’ve just finished reading it.
It tells the story of Zettie who, at the age of seven, stops talking in favour of listening, and she hears everything. The story charts her life and her links with family, humanity, geography and time. There are echoes of Michael Ende’s Momo, woven into a poetic, adult recognition of life.
I’ve been a fan of Elvy’s work for some years, but this is the best book I’ve read in a decade; a constellation of words from all over the world and a celebration of our planet’s energy and vibration. It’s short, just 103 pages, but it’s exactly right. The prose is exquisite, the observations both human and linked to all things, and the cacophony is wondrous yet familiar. A timeless world-song that unites what’s deep within us with the furthest horizon.
This book speaks to me on a personal level. It’s the only thing I’ve ever read that encapsulates how I feel about mountains, or why, when I swim, I always dip my head under the surface of the sea.
I won’t be lending my copy to anybody (although there may be gifts), but you can buy your own here.