Peter Markus gives us the gifts of boyhood and brotherhood, its violence and camaraderie, its magical enchantment. Markuss books share similar concernsbrothers, mud, fish, river, girl, moonand these words cycle through his lyric prose like a chant that washes us into an elasticized imagination accessible only in childhood. There is a deceptive simplicity to Markuss writing.
This is the worst its going to get, Janice thinks to herself. And maybe shes right. Shes smack in the thick of the breakfast rush, businessmen in tailored business suits at a half dozen tables and gossiping housewives littered throughout the restaurant.