I found the book by absolute chance, wandering aimlessly through a small used book store. There it sat, with its cover by Sir Edward Burne-Jones, beguiling me much as Merlin is beguiled. The cover drew me over, the description kept me there.

Possession is a blend of romance and mystery, but it reaches beyond those simple words. It is something that my bookshelves have lacked; it fills a space I didn't know existed. It has a sly wit, a slow-to-unfold mystery, and two love stories entwined through two hundred years of history.

It is the story of Randolph Ash and Christabel LaMotte, Victorian poets who happen to meet at a dinner party. Ash cannot forget the meeting and pens a letter to LaMotte.

Decades later, researcher Roland Mitchell discovers two drafts of the letter, wedged into a book that no one has ever fully explored. He has researched Ash long and hard, and is possessed by the letters. He slips them into his notebook.

Roland's continued research leads him to Maud Bailey, a stern, cold feminist, who is researching LaMotte. Roland and Maud seem to have little in common other than the dead poets, but slowly, as Randolph and Christabel's story unfolds, Roland and Maud discover their own story.

They track the dead poets' movements, and through their published poems come to discover their most private writings. Contained within, a love affair which will change the known history of Ash and LaMotte; can Roland and Maud bear to expose it? Will they have a choice, or will it be taken from their hands? Scoundrels are afoot.

This may sound familiar to you as a film based on the novel has recently appeared in theaters. I had the opportunity to see the film and while it deviates from the novel and cannot achieve the depth Byatt does, I enjoyed it well enough.

A.S. Byatt evokes a world within the pages of her novel that even moving pictures cannot do justice. Her prose is gorgeous, her imagery divine; why did I let this book sit upon my shelf for almost a year before finally giving in to its splendor?

Gorgeous, divine, splendor. Heady words, but not misused. Byatt has created something special here, for not only does she make you feel as though you are with every character on their journey, she has also created the correspondence between Ash and LaMotte; we read their letters and again I'm filled with the thrill I had when reading Griffin and Sabine (Nick Bantock). There is something illicit in reading letters intended for someone else--even if that someone else is fictional.

The thing is, none of these people feel fictional. Just as Byatt has given us the letters, she also gives us their lives' work--their poems, their epics, and each is as wonderful as fresh cream. Each character is fully realized, whole, and dimensional.