In between the sheets

"...I looked up, I looked into her eyes and saw there quiet, naked contempt. It was all over and I conceived in that frenzied instant two savage and related desires. To rape and destroy her. With one sudden sweep of my hand I ripped the smock clean off her body. She had nothing on underneath. Before she had time to even draw breath I was on her, I was in her, rammed deep inside while my right hand closed about her tender white throat. With my left I smothered her face with the pillow.

I came as she died. That much I can say with pride. I know her death was a moment of intense pleasure to her. I heard her shouts through the pillow. I will not bore you with rhapsodies on my own pleasure. It was a transfiguration. And now she lay dead in my arms. It was some minutes before I compehended the enormity of my deed. My dear, sweet, tender Helen lay dead in my arms, dead and pitifully naked. I fainted. I awoke what seemed many hours later, I saw the corpse and before I had time to turn my head I vomited over it. Like a sleepwalker I drifted into the kitchen, I made straight for the Utrillo and tore it to shreds. I dropped the Rodin forgery into the garbage disposal. Now I was running like a naked madman from room to room destroying whatever I could lay my hands on. I stopped only to finish the scotch. Vermeer, Blake, Richard Dadd, Paul Nash, Rothko, I tore, trampled, mangled, kicked, spat and urinated on... my precious possessions... oh my precious... I danced, I sang, I laughed... I wept long into the night."

Why do I keep reading Ian McEwan if, every few pages, I have to stop, catch my breath and try to recover? Because he is a master with language. And because this raw way of writing is exactly what I love about him. Perversely...

On the other hand, one month and 208 pages later I am still trying hard to understand what has excited millions of people about Roberto Bolaño´s 2666. I am sure it´s a question of persistence and I´ll soon find out. And this thought makes me read a few more pages every week... The same had happened to me with Eco´s Foucault´s Pendulum, but it had only taken 100 pages before I got completely fascinated and finished the book in less than three days.

So, that´s it, I am going to the cinema. It´s one of the few places where I don´t have to speak and don´t have to be nice to anyone. And I can´t tell you what a relief that is.