Indigo ink

 

    "Ink, thinks Jacob, you most fecund of liquids."

                   ~~~~~~

    "Steam rises from a bowl of water; light is sliced on the bright razor. On the floor a toucan pecks beans from a pewter saucer. Plums are piled in a terracotta dish, blue-dusted indigo."

 

   I hope I'm tantalising you with a glimpse of David Mitchell's The Thousand Autumns of Jacob De Zoet - though apologies, if I am, because it's not out yet - but having talked about poor writing the other day, I wanted to redress the balance in favour of quality literature because this book is magical stuff!

   I'm only part way through, but my notes show a run on my stock of superlatives, it's just so good. Do not, however, read the opening chapter if you are expecting a baby soon, though obstetric practices have thankfully progressed from the crude methods which would attend a difficult birth in 1799, but it's a perfectly rendered scene of an extremely tricky delivery (transverse breech, concave position with prolapse of the arm, since you ask - I could direct you to an illustration but I'll spare you that). 

    But back to the point: it's finding books like this that makes the reading life exciting, that shows that ink is truly the most fecund of liquids - if it's a skilled hand that's holding the pen.