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A review by irina_sky
Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury
adventurous
funny
hopeful
lighthearted
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
3.25
This book tested my patience. Bradbury’s prose is lush but meandering, and I nearly abandoned it multiple times. The fragmented vignettes felt disjointed, and the nostalgic tone occasionally veered into sentimentality. Yet, I pushed through—and found moments that lingered. It started to grow on me, especially towards the second half of the book.
Helen Loomis’s dragon-swan metaphor stood out:
“Do you know, it’s lucky we met so late. I wouldn’t have wanted you to meet me when I was twenty-one and full of foolishness.”
“They have special laws for pretty girls twenty-one.”
“So you think I was pretty?”
He nodded good-humoredly.
“But how can you tell?” she asked. “When you meet a dragon that has eaten a swan, do you guess by the few feathers left around the mouth? That’s what a body like this is, a dragon, all scales and folds. So the dragon ate the white swan. I haven’t seen her for years. I can’t even remember what she looks like. I feel her, though. She’s safe inside, still alive; the essential swan hasn’t changed a feather. Do you know, there are some mornings in spring or fall, when I wake and think, I’ll run across the fields into the woods and pick wild strawberries! Or I’ll swim in the lake, or I’ll dance all night tonight until dawn! And then, in a rage, discover I’m in this old and ruined dragon. I’m the princess in the crumbled tower, no way out, waiting for her Prince Charming.”
This haunting reflection on aging—the body as a dragon, the soul as a trapped swan—captured the tension between decay and enduring spirit. It’s raw and universal, a rare spark of profundity.
Similarly, Grandma’s “I’ve lost my touch” moment gutted me. Her crumbling confidence in the kitchen mirrors the fear of obsolescence we all face. Douglas restoring her chaotic workspace felt like a quiet rebellion against time itself—a reminder that love often lies in preserving imperfect magic.
Why 3.5 stars? For every gem, there’s a rambling passage or underdeveloped character. But Bradbury’s best scenes—like those above—justify the slog. It’s a book that rewards persistence, though I’d only recommend it to readers who savor poetic imagery over plot. If you’ve ever felt life slipping through your fingers, those fleeting, luminous moments might resonate deeply.
Helen Loomis’s dragon-swan metaphor stood out:
“Do you know, it’s lucky we met so late. I wouldn’t have wanted you to meet me when I was twenty-one and full of foolishness.”
“They have special laws for pretty girls twenty-one.”
“So you think I was pretty?”
He nodded good-humoredly.
“But how can you tell?” she asked. “When you meet a dragon that has eaten a swan, do you guess by the few feathers left around the mouth? That’s what a body like this is, a dragon, all scales and folds. So the dragon ate the white swan. I haven’t seen her for years. I can’t even remember what she looks like. I feel her, though. She’s safe inside, still alive; the essential swan hasn’t changed a feather. Do you know, there are some mornings in spring or fall, when I wake and think, I’ll run across the fields into the woods and pick wild strawberries! Or I’ll swim in the lake, or I’ll dance all night tonight until dawn! And then, in a rage, discover I’m in this old and ruined dragon. I’m the princess in the crumbled tower, no way out, waiting for her Prince Charming.”
This haunting reflection on aging—the body as a dragon, the soul as a trapped swan—captured the tension between decay and enduring spirit. It’s raw and universal, a rare spark of profundity.
Similarly, Grandma’s “I’ve lost my touch” moment gutted me. Her crumbling confidence in the kitchen mirrors the fear of obsolescence we all face. Douglas restoring her chaotic workspace felt like a quiet rebellion against time itself—a reminder that love often lies in preserving imperfect magic.
Why 3.5 stars? For every gem, there’s a rambling passage or underdeveloped character. But Bradbury’s best scenes—like those above—justify the slog. It’s a book that rewards persistence, though I’d only recommend it to readers who savor poetic imagery over plot. If you’ve ever felt life slipping through your fingers, those fleeting, luminous moments might resonate deeply.