The creators are “little more than boys” and clean and neat, like salespeople or bankers. They are looking for manuscripts for their Library. No fiction — none of that inauthentic literature. They want diaries, people’s deepest, innermost thoughts: “true, authentic documents reflecting the real spirit of the people.” The promise is that the Library will connect lonely souls, bringing them together, letting them make friends. For a fee, a reader can be put in touch with the writer of the documents. “How fast, almost explosive, its growth was!”
It is after the Library opens that the grisly murders begin.
I read The Twenty Days of Turin more than a month ago, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about…
