I cannot smell juniper without thinking of small bones. I have very strong smell memories, sometimes stronger than visual memories. I can still call up in my mind the smell of the north rim of the Grand Canyon, the myriad smells of different deserts, the scents of tamarack and black spruce as you get near the Wînipâkw, the smells of the blessed neem trees in Kano, the spring lilacs in Canadian towns, the comforting scents of freshly-sawn lumber, the many smells of snow in different settings.
Hold that thought, for I must digress.
I just re-read Edgar Pangborn’s A Mirror for Observers for the eighth time. The only other novel I’ve read as many times is Lewis Carroll’s Through the Looking Glass. Regular rereadings of Carroll’s masterpiece would not surprise anyone — I’m sure there are people who have read it dozens of times — but you might find it puzzling that I would give equal loyalty to a science fiction novel written in 1954, by an author who was respected in his day, but never a high-profile celebrity in the field. A Mirror for Observers is not even his best known book (though it is his best). I read the book in childhood, and it imprinted itself on my mind so vividly that I hardly needed to reread it, for I could play out every scene in my mind at will. But, at regular intervals throughout a lifetime, I have read it with full attention. Read more »