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Carter, Angela

The Lady of the House of Love

Andrea was kind enough to suggest and supply a sufficiently Halloweeny bit of ghoulishness to reconcile the setback of temporary lack of access to mine own troves. In the hopes of exponentially increasing the sympathy factor, let it be known that in addition to being without books, the chief operating offices of Miette’s bedtime have been largely internet-free for the past weeks, in what would, under normal circumstances,

Andrea was kind enough to suggest and supply a sufficiently Halloweeny bit of ghoulishness to reconcile the setback of temporary lack of access to mine own troves. In the hopes of exponentially increasing the sympathy factor, let it be known that in addition to being without books, the chief operating offices of Miette’s bedtime have been largely internet-free for the past weeks, in what would, under normal circumstances, leave a girl like me a little mildewy-eyed, save for the fact that, when I -do- find myself at Some Wretched Faceless Coffeechain Conglomerate, I log on to find fresh stories, and letters, and other epistolary well-wishes from the likes of you, and thank you for it.

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By miette

Miette has been podcasting the best of world literature's short fiction since March 2005, when she was just a pup.

5 replies on “The Lady of the House of Love”

Thank you for reading this, Miette–I enjoyed it immensely.

I’m mildewy eyed myself at the thought of you having to go without internet access unless you’re seated in horrible chain coffeehouses. I hope things will begin to straighten themselves out a bit more very soon!

[…] In other places the floor is tiled, the red squares worn in their centres and ridged up towards the edges and the mortar, like the floor is made of soft cloth rather than stone. Wearing cycling cleats, my footsteps clinked and grated; like spurs would have done, I imagine. (Angela Carter also noticed the similarities between knights and cyclists). […]

…what a joy !, one of my favourites, read by an enigmatic and alluring northern lass, in a perfect world we would meet, and read to each other !.
Paul x

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