Thursday, 29 September 2016
On November 17, 1944, he was somewhere near the German guns - and in London as a time traveler. He had known a girl in Streatham, London, in 1943. He was at college in 1947 and visited Amsterdam in 1952. In 1990, he reflects:
"The Midwest of his boyhood, before he went off to war in 1942, was like a dream, a world forever lost, already one with Troy and Carthage and the innocence of the Inuit. He had learned better than to return."
-Poul Anderson, (New York, 1991), p. 178.
- whereas Jack Finney's time travelers want nothing better than to retire in a nostalgically remembered pre-World War I United States. I would be interested to revisit childhood haunts but not in the hope of recovering any lost innocence.
We would like to read a novel about Everard's first thirty years of life.