Read possibly the best book I've read in years the other day. It was filled with descriptions like this one describing the birth of a mob:
"These were no longer people. A new expression buckled the crowd's features until their faces looked like fists."
And this one, describing the eruption of a volcano:
"There was a hushed half second like a gasp, a sense of some tiny but momentous change, of something cracking silently like a heart. The next instant, through that hidden crack beneath the surface, an oozing, millennia-old fire met dark, lucid water. And in that meeting, water and fire loved each other to destruction."
It was published under two different names: The Lost Conspiracy, and Gullstruck Island, by Francis Hardinge.
When I read things like this, I wonder how some of these other books got published… Because obviously somebody still knows how to write.