“Children, and people who retain some ingenuous trait of childhood, are almost indecipherable, I realize that. Nevertheless, in a child’s face, there is just one revealing, one unstable area, a space comprised between the nostril, the eye and the upper lip, where the waves of secret delinquency break on the surface. It is as swift and devastating as lightning. Whatever the child’s age, that little flash of guilt turns the child into a ravaged adult. I have seen a serious lie distort a little girl’s nostril and upper lip like a hare-lip…”
– Colette, The Rainy Moon
Another fantastic writer that I recently unearthed through the Wayward Girls And Wicked Women anthology by Angela Carter.
Her writing evokes violently, flows like a serene river between the worlds of reality and imagination and sighs, turning up at streams to pluck a thread of blonde hair with quivering fingers. I think of her as a wonderfully female libertine, sensual intellectual and a 20-century version of Sappho (but somewhat luckier) – she was the first French female novelist to be granted a state funeral after she was refused a religious funeral by the Catholic church. If that’s not badass (with a bit of good old Irish luck), I don’t know what is.