I have just read a sensational book. It's one of those please-don't-let-it-end books.
Her writing is stunning, 'Bucky, it saddens her to realise, has become one of those besuited shadows one sees on the LIRR platform, starting vacantly down the tracks waiting with equal indifference for both train and death.'
'He pauses, glancing around at the tent at all that lost potential, all that promise now shrouded in middle-aged fat and khaki.'
And, when talking about a woman who has experience far too much death for one lifetime, 'And Jane is crying not because she did or didn't know Hatch but because no matter how many people close to her have died, no matter how much grief has been piled on and endured, the fact of death itself still has the power to shock, every single time, with its indifference.
It's a bloody good yarn.