Reality Or Propaganda

Reality matters a great deal in real time. Reality within a tense novel is something entirely different. I am reading a spy story where the hero is escaping, I hope, an impossible situation. Hero cunningly ingratiates himself to his captor and at nightfall manages to beat him unconscious, steal his money, his watch, his gun, his passport and a whistle which enables Hero to control the only fellow guards, a litter of Doberman dogs. Hero sneaks down in the darkness to a deep swiftly flowing river, immersing himself while being carried downstream to evade sweeping searchlights. He can't survive. I hold my breath. The novel is only half finished. This cannot be the end.
But the end is inevitable because I know about freezing water. My nearby river is deep and fast moving, cold enough in December to dull the brain, leave the muscles numb. Last week a swimmer was pulled ashore by local search and rescue. The victim was exposed to freezing water mere minutes and his life hung in the balance for hours. Not so this Hero. No one would call for help. The enemy that Hero evaded temporarily was gaining in a warm dry boat. When caught in the searchlight Hero would be shot by humiliated pursuers.
Suddenly I realize I am unnecessarily tense. This is just a story. I mark my place and sip a hot drink. Soon I am calm, take a deep breath and read on. The novel is set in a country far away during a hot summer and Hero becomes another tourist in a crowd, melts in with his stolen identity, goes on and on and on. As does the story.
How wonderfully a skillful word smith brought me so really into a fantasy to which I threw in my own knowledge and verified the suspense. I wouldn't have it any other way. For me reading is to experience situations I will never otherwise live. Reading is a powerful ability gained by the progress of our civilization. May such power be extended to every human on earth.
Naomi Sherer