I can't say I'm particularly enjoying Rabbit, Run yet, but I do like sentences like this one:

He cuts through the Sunday-stunned town, the soft rows of domestic brick, the banistered porches of calm wood. (p. 93)

I do find it an interesting parallel to "Gesturing," where the lover is again named Ruth, and there is another semi-fascination with a building outside a window. Here it is a church, and the church-goers generate thoughtful examination although not exactly of the kind you might expect from a man who has run away from his life with hardly a moment of remorse or guilt.

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