I found this novella to be incredibly cinematic. It touched all my senses, including that of scent. Did anyone else's copy have a faint whiff of FrootI found this novella to be incredibly cinematic. It touched all my senses, including that of scent. Did anyone else's copy have a faint whiff of Froot Loops to it?
In reading comments to Toni Clarke's Goodreads review of the novella, I learned that Jesse Lee Kercheval plays the accordion. As I told Toni, I'm familiar with Kercheval's *Cinema Muto* and her French background. Putting the two together, I can't help but hear accordion music. In a sense, Kercheval "plays" Brazil like an accordion -- expanding and compressing scenes, language, details, time, miles traveled, and so on, to produce images that reverberate.
One of my favorite passages: "We stepped out of the hotel and the hot August night air hit us. A guy behind us said to his friend, 'My God, Henry, it's Miami out here.' And I knew what he meant. In the bar, the air conditioning had been cold enough to freeze the sweat on your back, and the transition into the real night was a shock. Claudia put her hand around mine, and I noticed both our palms were sweating. We're all human beings-- that was [the:] joke about it."