Is it the word, or is it the way Anthony Powell sets it in a sentence? Below, from A Question of Upbringing, first volume of The Music of Time. By luck I am reading a volume printed at the Windmill Press, Kingwood, Surrey, and into the pages are pressed tiny flecklets of what I can only guess must be some kind of mica. (Book mica?) Reminds me of the year a building on Park Avenue and 79th Street went up; the owners laid a very sparkly sidewalk.
“His eyes began their monotonous, tinny glistening.”