Let me tell you the story of my friend, Anton Zwiebel. You will soon realize that any story about Anton Zwiebel is also a story about me, Gustav Perle. In fact, I can’t imagine how I could set down 

This was an average dawn in the early summer of 1948, the year I got to be eighteen. “Eat your fishcake, Dougie,” said Lou. They were barracuda fishcakes. Awful. They tasted like it was the fish’s