I was born at the bottom of the ladder. Then I moved to the middle rungs. Then the ones above them. Then hanging in the sky.
Why do I want to write? I’m a murderer, a threat to society. The papers have screamed out my guilt. But I’ve got to write, before I leave the world. Please don’t call me a coward or a weakling. And please don’t bury me near poor folk. They might disturb my peace with their suffering. Don’t bury me near the rich either. They suffocate me.
A compelling novel which blazed a new trend of writing.