The man was silent. Solovoz thought of a related question which he might use to gain more information. "And those who die or commit suicide...are the families notified?
The man's laugh was brief and bitter. "Of course not...we are already dead to our families...notification would be what you journalists call 'redundant,' would it not?"
Solovoz nodded agreement, caught himself, and replies quickly, "Yes, I suppose you're right."
The Mortal remains," the blind man added, "are hauled on a wagon to the old municipal cemetery on the top of Nixxbourg's highest hill...and, except for the government burial crew, the body's last journey is made
alone."
"Oh?"
"Yes, alone. With the graveyard so inaccessible, no one here could get to the burial without great difficulty... and since there are no friendships here."
"No friendships exist here?" asked Solovoz.
The man's tone remained bitter. "Nothing exists here...not even the town, since no one othyer than the military knows its here...Friendship exist...laughing doesn't exist...love doesn't exist...crying doesn't exist..." He paused briefly. "Time doesn't exist...families don't exist..." He grew quiet.
"Do you have a family?" Solovoz questioned.
"No."
"Are they dead?"
"Of course not. They are not dead. They are, I presume still very much alive. An important sign of a dead man, you know, is his eyes forever closed. Didn't you notice? My eyes are permanently shut! I'm already dead. Don't waste your time with my corpse! Go talk to someone who is still alive; someone who can see with whom he speaks!"
The man again reached for his ale; but Solovoz noticed the hand shaking nervously as it gripped the mug; a little liquor spilling on the man's chest as he tipped the mug toward his mouth. It was a nervousness which was not present before Solovoz had begun his prying interview. Solovoz, the eternal agitator, prodded the man.
"You wouldn't like to go home to that family again?"
The man's mouth tightened. He gasped, as though his breathing was stifled. He had to struggle, just to speak. He banged his mug on the table! "You,,,you...bastard! You have no...no...no sym...no sympathy...or understanding...at all! Just because you're whole, you'd badger...a...a man who has been...hopelessly broken."
Solovoz didn't answer. Instead, after a moment's silence, he gently took the blind man's hand in his own, and pulled it against the hip of his missing leg. He quickly pulled the man's hand down along his leg to where it abruptly terminated. The blind man, suddenly realized that he was touching the stump of another man's leg. He violently jerked away his hand.
Solovoz spoke gently. "I, too, am broken."...
~~~
Please note that although politics are discussed; the author does not talk about parties themselves...except to politely argue, for instance, that voting a straight party ticket, is going to let in some scoundrels... Sooooo, true!
Topics for the essays are on many different topics, so if you enjoy debating, I am sure you'll find some you will disagree with, although I was pretty solidly with him on those issues I deemed important for me to have an opinion on...
While the cover is somber, it reveals a lot about many of the topics and beautifully complements those stories. The back cover, on the other hand, is much more personal since it is both his boyhood home, as well as a painting by his brother!
Memories could be sad or happy; readers may laugh or cry, but I truly doubt that some of these words will not haunt you, taunt you and, maybe, even bite you, that is,
if you happen to be a scoundrel! Which I'm not, so I didn't get bitten at all. I did cry quite a bit, And I also felt a sense of camaraderie--just knowing that at least one person feels the same things--sees the same things in America and across the world--and is speaking out against what is happening just as I and other writers have begun to do more and more...!!
Whimsy and Wry
By Guy Graybill
This book, with just over 257 pages, has so much to give! The novel alone is 90 pages, and defined as a Picaresque novella:
The picaresque novel (Spanish: "picaresca," from "pĂcaro," for "rogue" or "rascal") is a popular subgenre of prose fiction which might sometimes be satirical and depicts, in realistic and often humorous detail, the adventures of a roguish hero of low social class who lives by his wits in a corrupt society. This style of novel originated in 16th-centurySpain and flourished throughout Europe in the 17th and 18th centuries. It continues to influence modern literature. [Since I had never heard this word before, I figured I should include for others like me...LOL] Now that I know, I realized that I've read others in this genre, you?Before I go further into his story, I want to continue looking at the overall book. Whimsy and Wry provides several types of material, including poetry, essays, and even a couple of songs! For those of you who have already read samples from this book, you will note I included two of those songs, just because I enjoyed, first, guessing the tune, and then singing the words instead of just reading them! Cool, right?! In addition, you have seen samples of the poetry, and already met the Old Codger... Actually, I saved the best picture of him for this review. Why? I liked his eyes and he looked like the author, in my opinion, when he really becomes an old codger...LOL...What do you think?
Please note that although politics are discussed; the author does not talk about parties themselves...except to politely argue, for instance, that voting a straight party ticket, is going to let in some scoundrels... Sooooo, true!
While the cover is somber, it reveals a lot about many of the topics and beautifully complements those stories. The back cover, on the other hand, is much more personal since it is both his boyhood home, as well as a painting by his brother!
Memories could be sad or happy; readers may laugh or cry, but I truly doubt that some of these words will not haunt you, taunt you and, maybe, even bite you, that is,
if you happen to be a scoundrel! Which I'm not, so I didn't get bitten at all. I did cry quite a bit, And I also felt a sense of camaraderie--just knowing that at least one person feels the same things--sees the same things in America and across the world--and is speaking out against what is happening just as I and other writers have begun to do more and more...!!
The Agitator
"I was wondering, Sir...it seems to me that we've been fighting wars with...that is, against Halberland every decade or two since before our first historians were recording things..."
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