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240 pages, Paperback
First published May 1, 2017
On a mild Nebelung’s afternoon, Matthias Orion, having lived as an exclamation mark in the Wahrheit settlement and as the capital letter at home, killed himself.
He spent a strange day in surly, secret violence, compelled to destroy anything he considered to be part of himself, but almost unaware of where his black mood was taking him. He could find no release. He walked, reloading as he trod, crunching up his own driveway and entered his beautiful house as if blown by a harsh wind, unable to stop and remove his boots.
Ada came out of the kitchen, wiped befeathered hands on her pinafore.
Her eyes widened, travelled up and down with a storm brewing behind them as her mouth moved, but he heard nothing above the roar in his head. A wave swept over him, and before he had stopped to think he had shot his wife through the heart as she stood by the sideboard. She crumpled into silence, a hush that he recognised as unique among hushes: the end of everything. (p.3-4)
Now we have Nebelung, but what a Nebelung! The grass ripens at a marvellous height, the baby animals gambol at their mother’s sides, the heavens are mild, the rain enriching, the sun warm. Our gardens are places of praise. Our houses are places of worship, our fields ring with the songs of scythe and reaper and our children’s songs of joy. No fog or mist darkens our world, no ice bars our labours. No snow falls. We plan marriages and we harvest as we have sown. (p.1)