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333 pages, Kindle Edition
Published June 4, 2024
A hall of mirrors.
In a flash, I understood why I’d never relaxed into the evening, why all the booze failed to mellow me. Lionel and Roger were us, a reflection of us, a vision of our future.
It was all an invention on McCarthy’s and Cohn’s part, and most people knew it. They were creating villains because they needed them.
The free world didn’t create totalitarianism. Capitalism didn’t create communism.
Drawing inspiration from my creation P. I. McKey, who, in one of the novels, tells another character “to let the evidence speak for itself” (I wrote those words, I think)
Southwest DC was primarily a working-class Negro neighborhood. Bart and Edith—as well as, I imagine, Philippa’s parents—considered it a blight on the city. Many wealthy Washingtonians did. In their view, the blocks of old brick row homes and storefronts standing between the Mall and the confluence of the Anacostia and Potomac Rivers marred great monoliths like the Washington Monument, the Capitol, and other gleaming marble and granite government buildings. Since the war, cities were getting funding from the Feds to renew the slums, but—as Iris had explained—in many cases, it’d become an excuse to force out Negro families and business owners, raze the old structures, and build new city blocks and neighborhoods, populated with white families and businessmen.