“The brush swept down and ripped free until, abruptly, she quit brushing, stepped into the living room, dropped onto the couch, leaned back against the brick wall, and went totally limp. Then, from behind long black bangs, her eyes moved, looked at me. The question of what to do with my life was resolved for the next four years.”
Leonard Michaels, Sylvia
An essential taste here, Anthony. I enjoyed the link to the excerpt too. Four years, I thought. Why four? A lovely conjuration of New York. Thanks.
Yes, it reads well, so looking forward to getting to the whole book.