And wonder if she writes any kind of original fiction...
Her Walking Shadow is a refined sample of metafiction.
For tragedy, we must have a hero with a FATAL FLAW that will cause his FALL, guided by the hand of FATE.
History forgives none; she is an uncaring, cruel mistress...
They were all gone, all those who knew Harry Potter...And Dumbledore had made him the Boy Who Lived, of course
but the boy must have found reason to look within himself...and... he saw that there was nothing looking back at him.
Idols are not meant to be touched; their gilt comes off on our hands.
What more can I say?
Such texts are undescribable just because one have to invent a metalanguage specially to discuss them - and then, who will understand such a language?
And what for?
It's made to be read.
I always wondered what is it like to see your own white rabbit coming by. Alas, I'm afraid my life is one of those derived of such rabbits. At least I can enjoy the others' stories told, then.