It was Russia, January 5, 1943, and just another icy day. Out among the city and snow, there were dead Russians and Germans everywhere. Those who remained were firing into the blank pages in front of them. Three languages interwove. The Russian, the bullets, the German.

Sometimes you read a book so special that you want to carry it around with you for months after you've finished just to stay near it.

You can do anything when it's not real. When it is real, nothing breaks your fall. Nothing gets between you and the ground.

Rosa Hubermann was sitting on the edge of the bed with her husband's accordion tied to her chest. Her fingers hovered above the keys. She did not move. She didn't ever appear to be breathing.

It’s a small story really, about, among other things: * A girl * Some words * An accordionist * Some fanatical Germans * A Jewish fist fighter * And quite a lot of thievery

His eyes were cold and brown - like coffee stains.

Two weeks to change the world, fourteen days to destroy it.