The New Yorker:

How the author of “Rum Punch” and “Out of Sight” came into his style.

By Anthony Lane

Out of interest, could this be the best beginning to the sixth chapter of any book, by anyone, ever?

The girl with the stringy blond hair over her shoulders and the trading beads and the black turtleneck and Levi’s and the half-filled water glass of domestic wine in front of her on the bar said, “Do you like sex?”

Ryan hesitated. He said, “Sure.”
The girl said, “You like to travel?”
Ryan said, “Yeah, I guess so.”
The girl said, “Then why don’t you fuck off?”

In case you can’t pin the passage down, it is not from “Mrs. Dalloway,” or even “To the Lighthouse.” In fact, it comes from “Unknown Man No. 89,” a 1977 novel by Elmore Leonard. The man is Jack Ryan, not to be confused with the Jack Ryan dreamed up by Tom Clancy. The woman at the bar is Denise Leary, and she’s not just drinking; she’s a drunk, as we intuit from a single word. A glass of wine is one thing. A water glass, half full, is quite another. It smacks of quaffing. That’s Leonard for you. Like patches of reflected light in a portrait, flecked into life with dabs of pale paint, the smallest details kindle the larger picture.

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