Cassie McCullagh

There's an incredible kind of disconnect between, you know, the reality of life and what people want to be seen to be doing.

What about the way that she writes the proximity?

Because that concentration camp is in the middle of the town.

So people are both affected by the escape, like they're all stopped, they're being questioned.

But for me, it was that sense that it's all happening right next to each other.

How significant is that, that whole question of proximity?

I'll just read you a little bit.

He's on the run.

The street outside the gate went slightly uphill.

The fog, this is that fog that you're referring to, Martin, the fog had not reached here yet.

The summer day seemed to be coming to a close.

The light on the pavement was soft.

Across the way was a spice dealer's shop, next to it a laundry, after that a butcher's shop.

The bells on the shop doors tinkled.

Two women with packages, a boy biting into a sausage.

The power and splendour of everyday life.

In Westhoven, he'd pictured a street here differently.

He thought he would see a feeling of shame in every face, on every cobblestone, and that sorrow would mute the steps and voices and even the children's games.

But the street here was calm and the people looked happy.

Is that what makes it an anti-war novel?