Somewhere in Time is a beautiful film. I saw it on television in primary school, and it lived in my mind until I found a VHS copy when I was seventeen. I can forgive Jane Seymour all one thousand seasons of Doctor Quinn – I can even WATCH Doctor Quinn, to a point – because she gave the world Somewhere in Time. It’s a time travel romance. Theoretical wrasslin’ and love beyond everything? It’s like the film was made for me. And the colours in it are a dream.
I found the book it was adapted from yesterday.
In the film, the important piece of music is this one below; in the book the composer of favour is Mahler.
It’s not an experience I have so often, knowing a film to be perfect before I ever take a glance amongst it’s parent’s pages. I am pretty reliably on the side of originals.
But this is like when I read The Princess Bride. How does one choose?
I re-read Sabriel for the first time in a long time (ten years?) last week, as well. Gosh, it’s still so good. Sitting having tea in a market square I got a tear in my eyes for the fact that after the end of the book, even with the sequels, I miss ten or twenty years of their lives. Give Garth Nix books to your children, for he is a world builder, a feminist author and a magic-weaver of marvellous skill. And in terms of “ideally-written romantic interest for late-teenaged girls-like-me”, Touchstone is right up there with Oz from Buffy. I marvel at the skill with which those boys were made! Vulnerable and capable, they see you properly but they want you. A little bit objectified in the good way. They’re imperfectly perfect, and I’m glad that’s what I wanted then.