Dear Mr. Pinkwater
I just finished reading The Last Guru for probably the third time, and I still couldn’t help but crack a big smile when I was done. It’s the same way with all your books. Which is why I feel a bit cheated out of a well-earned portion of contentment… This is where I was going to complain about The Dada Boys in Collitch, until i did a search and found that you had addressed such complaints in this forum previously (I would still kill for even the merest hint at how the story was going to turn out by the way [as long as the person I had to kill had some way earned it… and was going to die soon anyway so there was no chance of rehabilitation… and were in a lot of pain anyway so I’d sort of be doing them a favor. Like that deaf blind guy they just executed, i would have pushed the plunger on his syringe for tasty Dada boy tidbit]). So instead of rambling on and on about that, I’d just like to ask, what’s with Iceland? I could just as easily ask about Bagels, or soft drinks with funny names, or Studebaker Larks, but I think I’m most curious about Iceland. What’s with it?
Jill and I visited Iceland. We hiked. We saw glaciers. We saw geysers. We saw a fjord. We saw black lava deserts. We visited viking ruins. We were robbed. We were lied to. We met a number of people of bad character. We had a good time. We later owned Icelandic horses. They were horses of good character. We still have our Icelandic sweaters. And some socks.
