Time

Excerpt from "The White Devil" by Justin Evans

Time had changed for Andrew. Back at Frederick Williams, it moved in horrible jerks, sometimes dragging out cruelly, he would measure out time in bummed cigarettes and drifting conversations he would pick up and discard around the common rooms like a small-town browser going back to a shop for the hundredth time. Then it would pounce. An exam. A paper due. As if time were some wicked funhouse machine, tuned by a mustache-twirling villain. But at Harrow, his isolation - fewer classes, fewer friends - slowed time, and made it a different element. At FW it had been fire: hypnotizing, then suddenly consuming. At Harrow, it was water: heaving, dense; deliberate.

My input: I'm still reading this book. What I can say about this book right now is that it has been hitting all the right spots most of the time.. The writings are utterly crisp, dense, wicked, chilling and playful..