Do i dazzle you?" i voiced my curiosity impulsively, and then the words were out, and it was too late to recall them. but before i had time to too deeply regret speaking the words aloud, she answered "frequently." and her cheeks took on a faint pink glow. i dazzled her. my silent heart swelled with a hope more intense than i could ever remember having felt before.
Experimental novels are sometimes terribly clever and very seldom read. But the story that appeals to the child sitting on your knee is the one that satisfies the curiosity we all have about what happened then, and then, and then. This is the final restriction put on the technique of telling a story. A basic thing called story is built into the human condition. It's what we are; it's something to which we react.