The elevator continued its impossible slow ascent. Or at least I imagined it was ascent. There was no telling for sure; it was so slow that all sense of direction simply vanished. It could have been going down for all I knew, or maybe it wasn't movingat all. But let's just assume it was going up. Merely a guess. Mayb ei'd gone up twelve stories, then down three. Maybe I'd circled the globe. How would I know?
[Although, in any strict sense, it's not killing time at all.] For only through assiduous repetition is it possible to redistribute skewed tendencies.
The bit about him renting a car - no idea what he's getting - and buying a few tapes - better play it safe, what goes with the car? - and harmlessly flirting with the girl, p345 and p346 in my version, is amazing. It's beautiful in its 'end of the world and (quote) I felt better for having met her (endquote)"' sense."
In one word (two) Beautiful book. Amazing. An ending that is no ending and in so, it is perfect.
It takes you along and soon you're running ahead of it, needing to know where it goes. Story telling at its best.
