I can't keep away from this guy. Here's how he starts off A Small Town In Germany [New York: Dell, 1968], p. 1:
Ten minutes to midnight: a pious Friday evening in May and fine river mist lying in the market square.When I read this, I had to read the rest.
Think about it: "Ten minutes to midnight"--time running out on something. "A pious Friday evening"-- Why pious? We don't know but the word raises questions in us that must be settled. "A fine river mist"--when I read this the Main River jumped into my vision. A mist obfuscates things.
And the next sentence draws us inexorably on, gleaming just as brightly as the first sentence: "Bonn was a Balkan city, stained and secret, drawn over with tramwire." I could go on and on, but I won't. Get the book and read it.
What do you think? Tell me. Post a comment. I'd like to know.
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