We thought we had mice in the catacombs of LS Towers but no – no need for the cheese and cats – it was Leila on her quest for gems. Here is another one that she has rootled out:
D M Gillis has quietly built up an impressive list of LS stories. Where Cherubs Sleep is a high and fine example of this author’s quality, and it is also a high and fine time for it to come round again.
I have a personal prejudice against the subject matter in this story: “There’s enough of this terrible sort of thing in the real world, why create more of it?” that’s the gist of my prejudice. alas, writers are supposed to report on the real world, and whether it be the 1940s or the ever-moving now, some things, which are the things that need change most, never do.
A question on the form: the quick single line exchanges of dialog effectively mimic those in real life–even so, yet there seems to be a cadence to these exchanges, which gives the piece a tense backbeat. was this consciously laid in, or did it come about organically during composition?
Response from DM
I consciously do what comes organically. Short lines of dialogue are the domain of characters who have seen too much, and therefore live lost inside of themselves. Trudy Parr’s back story is that she was a Canadian-born SIS assassin and spy in Nazi occupied Paris during WW2. This comes out in the series. While Roscoe Phelps is a crime reporter. Both have seen too much.