I’m so full of Niall Williams‘s History of the Rain that I don’t want to write about anything else this month.
It is the most beautiful and beautifully-written novel I’ve read, probably ever, and if not ever, then certainly for a very very long time. And it is – naturally – a book I would love to have written myself but i hardly dare even think so because I haven’t the man, Niall Williams’s, genius.
It’s a novel that sings to its reader and enfolds her. It’s a novel about writing and reading and books and stories and about our need for stories:
Only through story can we tolerate death.
History of the Rain by Niall Williams
And it’s a wonderful story too.
Here’s my goodreads review.
Thank you for writing it, Niall Williams.
