Brittany

In a literary sense, this is a modern religious parable about a physician's interesting professional relationship with a patient and the spiritual trials and growth they experience together.

In a scientific sense, Weiss' alleged “proof,” presented this way, doesn't hold up to the lowest level of critical observation. This doesn't mean all of his claims are false, but truth and proof are different.

I read books like this to explore new possibilities of thinking about the world. Anything presented as fact, though, must undergo some degree of scrutiny before I use it as foundation on which to structure my existence. Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence.

Ideally to be read after [b:The Giving Tree 370493 The Giving Tree Shel Silverstein https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1174210942l/370493.SX50.jpg 30530] and [b:The Little Prince 157993 The Little Prince Antoine de Saint-Exupéry https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1367545443l/157993.SY75.jpg 2180358] but before [b:The Alchemist 18144590 The Alchemist Paulo Coelho https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1466865542l/18144590.SY75.jpg 4835472].

A lively, alliterative translation that is a joy to read (aloud, if you can keep from getting tongue-tied); hearty thanks to [a:Robin Sloan 2960227 Robin Sloan https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1524283679p2/2960227.jpg] for passing on the quirky tradition of rereading this epic on New Year's Day; also, compliments to another invaluable bald man in my life, Dr. Robert Hamm, for first introducing me to this Arthurian legend 11 years ago.

Includes one of my favorite dedications: “I ask the indulgence of the children who may read this book for dedicating it to a grown-up. I have a serious reason: he is the best friend I have in the world. I have another reason: this grown-up understands everything, even books about children. I have a third reason: he lives in France where he is hungry and cold. He needs cheering up. If all these reasons are not enough, I will dedicate the book to the child from whom this grown-up grew. All grown-ups were once children — although few of them remember it.”

While I'll be forever reeling that these vignettes were written in the 1940s, the real narrative — for me — lies in the framework: Nin (among others) was commissioned by an unknown “collector” to write erotic literature for $1 a page (equal to $18 today), which she accepted to make ends meet. Henry Miller was also recruited. The idea of Nin and Miller, covertly romantically involved, writing hedonistic stories together “where the light was dim, the tea fragrant, the cake properly decadent,” interviewing friends for ideas and possibilities, and laughing at the bad and boring tastes of this not-so-secret secret collector... That's the biopic I want to see, and I want it co-created by Angela Robinson and Sally Wainwright for HBO.

“There has always been a special feeling between Big Sis and me. On her side at least.”

While researching Cluster B personality disorders, I found JCO's Zombie, tagged with reviews like, “...could not finish...” and “...will never read again...” Considering the novel received a Bram Stoker Award for horror, I knew I had to get my eyes on it.

Depraved, disturbing, and unflinching are all apt adjectives here as JCO places us inside the mind of a most terrifying “monster” — a human devoid of empathy and self-control. From descriptions of the hideously botched transorbital lobotomies performed with ice pick and textbook to the disjunctive first- and third-person perspectives Q_ uses to describe various stalkings, abductions, rapes, and murders, Zombie is nightmarish. But also stippled with gracefully-rendered mundanity that grounds the narrative in reality:

“& then Grandma got the idea to hire me for yard work [...] & that was O.K. in theory. Grandma would pay me $50 to $75 cash for just a few hours' work & I did not need to be too thorough, she never came out to examine it. An operation for cataracts or something in one or both of her eyes so maybe she couldn't see too well & I didn't inquire. Grandma slipped these bills to me saying This is just between you & me, Quentin. Our little secret! meaning not Dad nor the IRS would know. Maybe Grandma was lonely & that was why. Trying to get me to stay for supper etc. There was another old woman, a widow who was a friend of Grandma's & sometimes I would drive this other old woman to her home & she would tip me, too. Like a taxi service. In my 1987 Ford van with the American flag decal in the rear window.”

There's no “abduct me, daddy” celebritization here. Just the study of a man inhibited by an extreme and unchecked personality disorder, mowing lawns, eating burgers, visiting grandparents, and driving around in an old Ford van with an American flag decal in the rear window.

For me, it can't get any scarier than that.