Poisonhorse is not only a miracle, but one of the saddest books alive. "I had a Time once," writes Wells, "but I didn’t water it and it never grew." It is in this no growing place where dear Poisonhorse and its archivist live, punctuated by fable, philosophy, and the fierce hunger to keep what is loved breathing forever. Wells will yank your heart out, decorate it with fur and dreams, grow it more hearts, a whole tree of hearts, invite you to sit under it, and in this shade you will read this book and tremble.
