I’m trying to remember how long ago I first read Silk. It may have been as much as ten years ago, when the book was new. I can’t say for sure, but I can say that few books have stayed with me the way Silk has. Even when I’d forgotten the details of the plot, images remained: the horror of the climactic scene, the kudzu-strangled trees. A few years after reading Silk, I went on a road trip through the South,
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