He walked like a man recently returned to the world. Every step was careful, deliberate. Every step he relished. He was tall and clean shaven, a little thin perhaps. Dressed by Savile Row. Light woolen suit of herringbone weave, the jacket wide on the shoulders and narrow at the waist. His fawn gloves matched his Tribly. He looked like an Englishman, secure in his right to be on such a street, on such a pleasant afternoon in spring.
The Winter Ghosts
Great first paragraphs! Set in France just after WWI. This is a story of loss and renewal. Beautiful writing. I'm reading it too fast; sucked into the story. This is prose to be savored... Kate Mosse is co-founder and honorary director of the prestigious Orange Prize for Fiction. Visit the site. One could most assuredly find a fine reading list there.
Looking forward to reading through her backlist: