There is power coming from the mouth … quietly.  A vibration in the air.  As words emerge, they touch the listeners around.  They land lightly and seep inside.  And we are changed.

I’m reading Inkheart.  It’s a tender story.  Mo is the father.  When he reads aloud, time stops …

Everything disappeared: the red walls of the church, the faces of Capricorn’s men … There was nothing but Mo’s voice and the pictures forming in their minds from the letters on the page.

To think of the magic he could have worked in her room with his voice, a voice that gave a different flavour to every word, made every sentence a melody!  Even Cockerell had forgotten his knife and tongues he was supposed to cut out, and was listening with a faraway expression on his face.  Flatnose was staring into space, enraptured, as if a pirate ship with all sails set were truly cruising in through one of the church windows.  The other men were equally entranced … There was not a sound to be heard but Mo’s voice bringing the letters and words on the page to life.  (daughter Meggie)

“I’ve read that book many times,” he said, in a voice that shook, “but I never saw it all as vividly as I did today.  And I didn’t just see it … I smelled it, the salt and the tar and the musty odour of the whole accursed island.”  (Darius)

“Why is she looking so admiringly at her father?  Because no one ever read aloud like that … I saw it all, the sea and the island, as clear as if I could touch it, and I don’t expect it was any different for your daughter.”  (Elinor, Mo’s aunt)

A wish, a yearning almost, to be carried away by his voice once more, transported far away to a place where they could forget everything, even themselves

Then he continued, and Meggie and Elinor listened until his voice had carried them far, far away.  Finally, they went to sleep.

Lulled by the tones