This might seem off-topic, but there is three sources of inspiration in my life: music, people and books. So sometimes I will share my thoughts on some of the books I stumble across, as they are part of this whole thing.
This book is a feast of words, and a beautiful story that I will read again and again. One day I will tell this story to my children, that’s how beautiful it is. Applause!
Rushdie’s novels are usually as poetic as prose gets, when you look at the density and the choice of words, and sometimes the stories are as twisted and complex and many-levelled as the language they are told in. This is his what makes Rushdie so unique, and still it is at least as great a pleasure to read a story where he restrains himself. The pace is quick, the story could be summed up in about two sentences (for now I won’t) and all the while you are in the web of a master storyteller, where you never ever hear the grinding of narratological gears, just pure, soothing, otherworldly beauty.
I have to keep myself from quoting lines in my lyrics, and that is a stupid thought, because those lines move me, and say exactly what I would want to say if only I could. I often borrowed sentences and ideas of Rushdie for a lot of my older songs and this book clearly reminds me of why I always did that.