In Watermelon Sugar, Richard Brautigan (1968)
What a strange and hypnotic book, and beautiful. From the first page it builds momentum, through repetition and what i want to call poetry, though i do not know precisely what i mean by the term. Something to do with rhythm, with word choice, with setting images in their contexts without undo ceremony or drama. The total effect of this (for lack of a better term) style is almost mythic, like a parable or a dark, and bright, fairy tale.