Within a very few pages, we are involved in the mind of Ivan Denisovich in the apathy he has towards his situation, and yet he still reveals the instincts to survive by learning about the guards and fellow prisoners and the internal routines of the camp. We feel the cold of the Russian winter through the frost on the windows, the temperature gauge that the prisoners don’t trust to be true, and the decision Ivan makes about what will be his only pair of boots.
So much said in so little space.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
I truly admire writers who are capable of “so much said in so little space.”
Yes, that’s the hardest part. Ironic too in this novel, that the entire book is merely the covering of one single day. Yet no wasted words and no elaborate imagery that doesnt’t come across from simply drawn pictures.