The Facts Behind the Helsinki Roccamatios
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Inventive in form and timeless in content, each story is moving and thought-provoking. A Canadian university student visiting Washington, D.C., experiences the Vietnam War through an intense musical encounter. Variations of a warden's letter to the mother of a man he has just executed reveal how each life is contained in its end. A young man's fascination with the mirror-making machine he finds in his grandmother's attic is juxtaposed with the reminiscences it evokes from his grandmother. And, in the exquisite title story, a young man dying of AIDS joins his friend in fashioning a story of the Roccamatio family of Helsinki, set against the yearly march of the twentieth century.
killed instantly—” “In 1921, Banting and Best isolate insulin, the glu—” “In 1921, Camus was killed instantly—” “The glucose-metabolizing hormone—” “By a tree—” “By a hormone—” “In 1921, the atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima and it killed—” “Ha! In 1921, Banting and Best—” “In 1921, the bomb was dropped and it killed—” “It is spectacularly effective as—” “It killed—” “Is spectacularly effective—” “It ki—” “Is effective.” “It—” “So, so effective.” He’s tiring; I can sense he
Versailles (set at the equivalent of thirty-three billion dollars). France and Belgium occupy the Ruhr district to force compliance. The German government blocks all reparation deliveries and encourages passive resistance. The French and Belgians respond with mass arrests and an economic blockade. The German economy is devastated, and its government begins to founder. The ground is fertile for extremists. Paul is plainly waiting for me. He’s bored. Strange how this illness, which aims to rob him
breeze. He’s deeply stirred by the expanses of green grass and the leaves rustling in the trees. We sit on a park bench. He can’t stop looking about, in a constant state of marvel at Nature. His feelings are intense and radiant. I make 1929 one of our finest stories. 1929—The comic book Tintin au Pays des Soviets is published, the creation of the Belgian Georges Rémi, better known as Hergé. Another twenty-three volumes of the thrilling adventures of the intrepid reporter will follow. The
endless. I checked the time. Only 9:33 p.m. Still the Telemann to go before intermission. The thought of leaving then entered my mind. But I convinced myself to stay. Come on, I thought, the composer of the next concerto is here, right in front of you. And what’s a “discordant” violin? It could be very good. I remembered a Dutch violinist I had heard in Montreal. His piece had been pure noise, a mix of long monotones interrupted by head-shaking frenzies of screeching notes and frantic plucking.
ways of being had been pulled down and I was experiencing an amazing feeling of freedom. I felt emptied, opened, transfigured. I became aware of various sounds. Sudden intakes of breath. Bodies moving in chairs. The whine of the German shepherd. Audience members began to leave; they did so quietly, as if we were in a church. The musicians departed the stage one by one. Morton was the third to go. I didn’t move. I looked about. The Merridew Theater had changed. It was no longer a ruin: it was a