response 1 of 108:

Jun 25 00:25 UTC 1997

She hadn't understood him then, but she was starting to understand
him now as she made her way to the fountain at the center of the
garden, where the old oak tree stood guarding its secrets in the
heart of the Moondream Wood. There were two forests for every one
you entered.   There was the one you walked in, the physical echo,
and then there was the one that was connected to all the
other forests, with no consideration of distance, or time.

The forest primeval, remembered through the collective memory of 
every tree in the same way that people remembered myth --
through the collective subconscious that Jung mapped, the shared
mythic resonance that lay buried in every human mind.  Legend and
myth, all tangled in an alphabet of trees, remembered, not always
with understanding, but with wonder.  With awe. 

response 3 of 108:

Jun 25 04:28 UTC 1997

funny, very funny.  :)

response 5 of 108:

Jun 25 07:40 UTC 1997

Damn!  I know this one, but I don't think I've got time to find a suitable
quote with which to follow it.  Let's see who else turns up...

response 7 of 108:

Jun 25 21:59 UTC 1997

Ah, thank you! I'd forgotten that.

response 9 of 108:

Jun 26 02:20 UTC 1997

Oh, all right.  It's Charles deLint, isn't it.

response 11 of 108:

Jun 26 16:04 UTC 1997

I even found the right book on the first try, but didn't feel like re-reading
until I found the reference.  OK,  try this, from a book I just recently
found. <whee!>--I'll x out a place-name in the first line since I think it'll
be a dead giveaway to anyone who has read the book.  Sound good?  Here goes:

Another danger was owls, worse than the danger of magpies.  There were three
main kinds of owl at Mxxxxxxxxx: the barn, the tawny, and the Lilford, who
also hunted by day.  Horned owls were rare, though they did come sometimes.
These creatures were braver and less wily than the magpies, and they ahd never
learned to keep away.  Also, instead of merely pouncing like the crow tribe,
they came down vertically like dive bombers, and it was impossible to slay
them.  There was no time.  Consequently the sentry on the cupola had to do
night-watching for owls, and, when he spotted one, he rang a bell.  Maria,
when she found out about it, realized that she had heard the bell often.  But
there are such a lot of noises in the country, queer noises like donkeys
braying and so on, that we neglectful humans do not properly attend to them.
The bell made a deepish tonk-tonk-tonk, and Maria had always thought it was
a carrion crow.  When the bell was rung, the only hope was to stand still
without looking up.  If they moved, the owl saw them; if they looked up, it
noticed their white faces under the moon.  If they stood still, looking
straight in front of them, it nearly always passed over.

response 13 of 108:

Jun 26 21:00 UTC 1997

That was my thought too, though I haven't read it.

But remember that you're supposed to identify the author, not
the title.

response 15 of 108:

Jun 27 04:46 UTC 1997

Nope.  Tell me about _Ducton Wood_,sounds intriguing.

response 17 of 108:

Jun 28 21:45 UTC 1997

Since I've not read _Duncton_Wood_ yet, I'll just quote the description on
the cover jacket:
"_Duncton_Wood_ is the story of a quest into the nature of love and greed,
of oppression and liberty, of integrity, grace, and of the power of the
spirit.
        Here, in an epic fantasy of the highest order, William Horwood bestows
upon the world of moles a mythic history that overflows with richness and
facination, involving the same momentous struggles between Good and Evil that
have always plagued humankind.
        The moles of Duncton Wood are a varied lot.  There are the aggressive
Westenders, the independent Eastsides, and the secretive and sickly
Marshenders.  Despite their differences, all are members of the same, once
proud and famous molesystem, and all are tyrannized by Mandrake of Siabod --
a mole so powerful and senselessly destructive that his name is a curse on
those who utter it.
        The source of the evil that spreads throughout Duncton lies not solely
in Mandrake, however, but also in the growing disinterest in the traditions
and rites surrounding the great stillstone at the heart of the ancient order.
        It is in the shadow of that towering stillstone that Bracken and
Rebecca, daughter of Mandrake, meet by chance, exchange a few words, and
scurry off in different directions, never to forget the moment -- in which
the courses of their lives are forever altered.
        Only Hulver the Elder, guardian of the sold ways, can see that the
future happiness of all moles depends on the enterprise and success of young
Bracken, supported by Rebecca's love.  Together with Boswell, the scribemole
of Uffington, Bracken sets out to revive the ancient beliefs and disperse the
malevolence from Duncton: They seek the mysterious and sacred Seventh
Stillstone.
        ..."

That's probably not the book we're guessing at, but it's worth a shot.  Sounds
almost cliche, doesn't it?  The only difference is it's set with moles instead
of humans... but even so, it's still on my list of books to read.

response 21 of 108:

Jun 29 15:12 UTC 1997

Argh!  I think I know this one, but I can't remember the name!  For that
matter, I can't even remember the author!  I know I have it at home somewhere,
but we've got so many books here, somebody else probably will have gotten it
by the time I find the book.
        Yep, I'm local, and sure, I'll loan you the book, as long as it's okay
with the person who truly owns it.  It's technically hers, but she doesn't
generally mind if I take books off of her shelf.

response 23 of 108:

Jul 1 05:17 UTC 1997

Well, Kami says "Lilliputians" is a false clue, so it isn't Swift.  It could
be any of several other books about tiny people, but I can't remember the
author of either the "Borrower" books or the books about the Littles (if those
two aren't, in fact, the same).