It is the world’s longest book about a man having a dream, and it makes Marcel Proust, who wrote the world’s longest book about a man eating a piece of cake, look like Ernest Hemingway. The first was a huge length of whalebonestuck through the septum of his nose and protruding past each nostril. Like twin mirrors placed face-to-face, their reflections doubling back, they had seen themselves in earnest for the first time, and a thousand strong. It really was an icecastle, and life within its frozen walls could be pleasant though demanding.
He won’t identify himself as the author, so that no one will suspect what’s in it. '236'You know what the tsarina said, may heaven protect Her Royal Highness. Everything else I did on my own. Othersseem to have preceded them at different spots by thousands of years, moving graduallyand arbitrarily eastward in their constant quest for food.
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