Chapter 21 of Memoirs of a Midget by Walter de la Mare

My review of Chapter Twenty-One

“Why, isn’t that beech-tree we sat under a kind of cannibal of its own dead leaves?”
— in a letter from M to F

“I have finished Wuthering Heights. It is a mad, untrue book. The world is not like Emily Brontë’s conception of it. It is neither dream nor nightmare, Midgetina, but wide, wide awake.”
— in a letter from F to M

Much trying to sort out the Crimble syndrome and F’s explanation for not singing at his concert and calling M a “fretful midge”.
Yet our own Midgetina’s memoirs now bear a fruition of purpose, if she laughs at herself and then sees the world smile. Watched by a blackbird, amidst the WDLM-archetypal countryside fiction lore, at the empty house of Wanderslore. WDL wanderslore? M, our Midgetina? Yes, WDLM! Strung through with my own vision of knots as ligotti?

“I had taught myself to make knots in string, but actual experience seemed to have proved that most human fumblings resulted only in ‘grannies’ and not in the true lover’s variety.”

***

Full context of above review here: https://elizabethbowensite.wordpress.com/2022/11/30/memoirs-of-a-midget-2/

Re Ligottian knots: https://dflewisreviews.wordpress.com/2014/08/25/ligotti-are-knots/