It was during one of the truly lukewarm Danish summers. The house, built in wood by my wife's grandfather in the 1950s, was and is our regular refuge during the few warm weeks. The coast is close. There is always salt in the air. For the past 20 years, reading has been one of our primary activities in that house. So too the summer when both my wife and I made our first acquaintance with the French author. . .
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