tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9832114.post110495800011469360..comments2009-07-12T09:46:51.381-07:00Comments on Orion Reads: henry james excerptgood old ohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14454702773523287540noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9832114.post-1105051343254302232005-01-06T14:42:00.000-08:002005-01-06T14:42:00.000-08:00I'll admit that last one is sweet like cucumber te...I'll admit that last one is sweet like cucumber tea, but i think maybe he shoulda wrote poetry instead of prose. Nobody talks or emotes like James's characters, they're all lunatics of the first water.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9832114.post-1105049760585142092005-01-06T14:16:00.000-08:002005-01-06T14:16:00.000-08:00Crikey, though, the last sentence? "We were alone...Crikey, though, the last sentence? "We were alone with the quiet day, and his little heart, dispossessed, had stopped." That James *could* cool it when he needed to, in my mind, 's what sets him apart from others who habitually overpack their sentences.indeterminate identityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02015309298234443879noreply@blogger.com