Liquid time, the River Thames flows through London Town in one direction, the water swallowing most everything that falls in. Items lost to the river's churn, caught in silt, mud, and gravel, lay exposed at a later date, perhaps centuries hence. Among the ubiquitous animal bones, pipe stems, and sewing pins, other items turn up, some useful, others that are works of art or that have historical significance. Yet the river's power to resurrect the common-place, the fascinating, and the priceless also extends to things much less desirable. In THE WITCH OF WAPPING, the River Thames's cycle of burial and revival preserves and then brings back something meant to remain dead and buried—something with a mean bite.
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