There are so many. I have to mention one that took my breath away — in spite of knowing from the novel exactly what was coming.
Michael Berg, arriving at the courthouse, standing in the street as the grim police paddy-wagons whiz by (the camera does a dizzy see-saw with Michael as pivot point), sirens wailing the two-tone euro klaxon. He enters the the upper gallery of the courtroom, basking in his youthful status and proud insider privilege. Settling in for the “circus,” he flirts boyishly with a beautiful student down the row. He bends down, opening his satchel to pull out pad and pen. Then a judge down below asks the question that drops the bottom out of Michael’s life forever: “Hanna Schmitz? Your name is Hanna Schmitz?” His own innocence evaporates in a single paralyzed instant. Shattering.
Beat that, AD readers.