He is not making much headway, and Leeuwenhoek passes him by like a meteor, cutting a swathe through the milling necks. He looks back to see Vermeer standing, doffing his cap, whether to a goose or a person he cannot see, a dark blot in the midst of a rippling, cacophonous, white canvas.
Sarah Tolmie’s The Little Animals is billed as a scifi historical fiction about a dude who discovers tiny animals and has to deal with that knowledge. Tiny animals? I’m in!
What was apparent to everyone but me (I have since gathered) is that the “tiny animals” he’s discovered are microscopic organisms. It’s cool, but I’m not going to pretend I wasn’t a little disappointed not to be reading about, like, really small elephants and stuff.
Once I accepted my loss, I had to admit that the story I was reading was actually very cool in its own right.