Paul Bowles' classic about an American trio traveling in North Africa just after WW2 actually gets off to a really slow start. Not that the first half is completely uninteresting, but it has a sort of pedestrian feel to the way it sets the scene. I won't say much more than that here for fear of ruining the twist that really sets the novel off and running midway through. By the way, don't read the introduction. The rest is a highly recommended, almost existentialist, study in the creation (or lack thereof) of personal meaning.
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