The Swimmers

The SwimmersWe didn't know enough about her--and we weren't likely to, eitherThere are stories that go unaccountably wrong and become impermeable to the imagination. They lodge in the memory like an old wound never entirely healed. This story of my father's younger brother Clyde Farrell, my uncle, and a woman named Joan Lunt, with whom he fell in love, years ago, in 1959, is one of those stories.Some of it I was a part of, aged 13. But much of it I have to imagine.•It must have been a pale, wint...