"I admired the fog and its affinity to the mountains"

Not the mountains in this case but Ditchling Beacon on the South Downs this afternoon (as taken on my phone camera after I'd cycled up through the fog). The line comes from Indian Summer (Der Nachsommer), a novel from 1847 by Adalbert Stifter - an influence on both Sebald and Bernhard - which Tales from the Reading Room inspired me to read. "It's a coming of age novel in which very little happens," Litlove writes "but its emotional climate is one of achingly suppressed passion." This is a perfect summary of the 380 pages (of 475) I have read so far. "It's extraordinary" she adds. It is that. I wonder how many other novels have such faith in such silence?