Gross Iser is/was a small village by the Polish boarder largely removed by the Soviets in '45.
The residents - few in number - made their livings in part by fishing and eating local trout.
I'm thinking of these little backwaters tonight as I look at a novel.
Bogmail written Patrick McGinley taught me that murder, deception, mistrust, prejudice, and the rural environs can be a wonderful combination for a story.
It was my fist piece of rural noir, as it were.
Now, as I set on a new project I'm thinking of this book. There is more thinking to do and so I'll let the backwaters run slowly for a bit longer as I tackle a topic a bit more developed in my mind.
Murder in the rural village still haunts me. There's nothing quite like the fracture of confidence which comes from the unnatural demise of a neighbor.
Watch him with that shovel, Sasha.
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