You know, the one you get when riding in a car, with a driver who has an on-off foot on the gas, and your head drifts forward, then Mr. flippety-foot punches it, and your noggin snaps back, and then he decides to coast for a quarter mile (maybe to save gas? my husband's Scottish uncle used to do this), and when the car starts to slow the foot goes back on, and after about five miles your nausea sets in, and you make a mental note to offer to drive next time.
Yeah, you know that feeling, right?
I'm reading The Snow Queen by Michael Cunningham, and, honest to pete, I'm on that ride. Cunningham is the modern master of the fifteen comma, one sentence paragraph.
I'll give it my best shot. This is a book club pick.
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