We had people over for dinner recently and one of the women, looking at my collection of books, asked me which was the most interesting. It caught me off guard. I’m used to people asking if I’ve read all my books. (“Twice,” I tell them.) People sometimes ask me what’s the most interesting place I’ve been, a question I always have trouble answering. But after a few seconds thought, I knew exactly what to tell her: Foreign Faces, by V.S. Pritchett, the book about Eastern Europe I bought several hours before spotting Hania behind the bar of London’s Mitre Hotel.
