What might Chris Snow, sentenced by his creator to perpetual shadows, say to you if you could enter his world or if he showed up in yours?–Reese, Nevada
He would surely curse me for condemning him to a life without light, but he might thank me for making him such a romantic figure. He would mock me for writing novels in which even the troubled and the weak usually find great reservoirs of courage deep within themselves–while I myself am reluctant to board aircraft except in dire emergencies. Then he would notice the moon was full, the surf was up, and he’d suggest we grab boards and beer and speed for the beach. Orson would swoon over Trixie.