And so it begins. Six pages to introduce and frame a book. I spent them attentive to the beautiful details, like this:

“The pores of his face are prickling. Emptying his mind–a Commando trick–he steps into the wet heat of his bananery, sets about picking the ripest and the best, holding up the skirt of his robe to drop them in. Allowing himself to count only bananas, moving barelegged among the pendulous bunches, among these yellow chandeliers, this tropical twilight…”

And so Pirate stands, on his roof garden, denying the fact of the V-2 rocket blasting overhead. I can’t help but appreciate the additional banana exposed as he lifts up his robe.

The words are so dense, but the imagery is amazing. The observed world stands still while destruction grows close. I must confess I did not first realize that the throngs of people seen evacuating in the streets below was a dream and not reality, but in the end I do not fear that this will hurt my reading much because the novel’s awake world is so surreal. Pirate wakes up to a man falling and manages to save him with the cushion of his own bed. And the falling man just snuggles up to sleep.

I like the rooftop garden, and its overly potent soil made from years of trash and refuse. And the moment when one denies the inevitable because there is nothing else to do. Casually considering if he should sound the alarm, Pirate opts for breakfast instead. The phenomenon of time slowing down is real–I remember my first major collision while riding on my push scooter. My cousin and I were traveling down a long, cindery hill road. Our speed was too great. My cousin, who was ahead of me, saw a tree branch lying in the road before us and managed to guide himself to the side of the road to avoid a collision. In turn, he threw his scooter out from under him and directly in my own path. The knowledge I was going to hit was infinite, but I just closed my eyes and felt the calming breeze on my face. When I struck the scooter with my own I flipped through the air, over and over for what felt to be an hour. It seemed I never would land.

And so, through Pirate’s dreaming and morning ruminations, great chaos is distant and already at hand. I am already enthralled.