There is no real appeal for me in an image of a woman on a motorcycle.
Writing a first novel was an arduous crash course. I learned so much in the six years it took me to write it, mostly technical things pertaining to craft.
It's amazing how life conspires to set you up with what you need.
The VW doesn’t make you think of Hitler and genocide. It’s a breast on wheels, a puffy little dream.
People are complicated. Personally I don't go in for puritanical people.
Since it's fiction, the book resonates, at least for me, on various levels, some of which intimate ideas about history but none of which have the kind of directly causal reasoning you cite.