Stepping out of a timeless kayak in the Sea of Okhotsk, the only survivor of a doomed hunting trip, I find myself on mid-19th-century Kyushu watching the end of the Tokugawa bakufu. Then through the empty Kyrgyz steppes during WW II into a nearly contemporaneous dressing room in a Tokyo theater. Yet better than nonexistent teleportation/time machines, in books one is afforded direct insight into the inhabitants' minds. Please pass me the next one...
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