It is one of many moments when the narrative escapes the constraints of the Suffolk landscape, and plunges vertiginiously through time and space. He had discovered that the train that used to run on the railway had been built for a Chinese emperor, and he found himself carried back, as if by the tide that flowed beneath the bridge, to the events of the Taiping Rebellion and the tyrannical rule of the Dowager Empress Tz’u-hi in 19th-century China. Sebald did not stop on the bridge for long, but it served as a point of embarkation for one of the far-ranging meditations that make up the substance of the book. Sebald, who had approached it from the opposite direction in the course of the walk that inspired his masterpiece, The Rings of Saturn.
Whenever I crossed the bridge, I would think of the German writer W.G.
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