![]() ![]() It seemed hardly credible when I finished reading that I couldn’t follow the words back to a world where this wasn’t mere fiction. The Ten Thousand Doors of January is almost less a novel than an experience: never have I felt more like I was part of things, moved by the same current, like my soul had disconnected from my body and drifted among fictional souls in a mist somewhere between fantasy and reality. I felt that to speak of this book would be to contain what it did to me, to diminish it somehow.
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