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288 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1967
"She turned and began running back along the dyke, thinking how strange it was - about being 'inside' or 'outside'. It was nothing to do with there being other people, or whether you were 'an only', or one of a large family...she knew that now - it was something to do with how you were feeling inside yourself."I really enjoyed the postscript by the author's daughter. The story about the Japanese man was lovely. The book deeply influenced him as a teenager and he ended up visiting the village that the book is set in. His name isn't mentioned, but it isn't Miyazaki, because he was twenty-five when the book was published. I can only guess that it was the director.
It was one of those still, grey, pearly days, with no wind, when sky and water seemed to merge into one, and everything was soft and sad and dreamy.
Already she had spent many afternoons here, lying in a sandy hollow, hearing only the wind rustling the tops of the grasses, the distant crying of the gulls, and the soft soughing of the sea. It was like being at the very edge of the world. Sometimes the gulls came nearer, screaming noisily as they quarreled over small fish in the pools, and sometimes they cried mournfully far away along the beach. Then Anna felt like crying too - not actually, but quietly - inside. They made a sad, and beautiful, and long-ago sound that seemed to remind her of something lovely she had once known - and lost, and never found again. But she did not know what it was.
If she really got to know them, and they her, all that would be spoiled. They would be like all the others then- only half friendly. They, from inside, looking curiously at her, outside- expecting her to like what they liked, have what they had, do what they did. And when they found she didn’t, hadn’t, couldn’t- or what ever it was that that always cut her off from the rest- they would lose interest.
"But even as she wept, a new and delicious sadness was creeping over her. The sadness one feels for something enjoyed and now over, rather than for something lost and never found again."