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In the Flesh: An Erotic Novel
In the Flesh explores through poetic imagery the sexual encounters of a woman’s life as they flicker through her memories, back and forth in time from the first awakenings of puberty to the full-blown pleasures of her maturity. Hovering on the border between dream and reality, the narrator lingers over memories of early explorations with her brother, a schoolteacher, and friends, both male and female. The vibrant happiness of these memories contrasts with later darker thoughts, as the narrator concentrates on her secret relationship with her father. The atmosphere becomes volatile and dreamlike, the sexes interchanging in passionate confusion, blurring the line between memory and imagination. Unashamedly frank and lyrically surreal, In the Flesh stands as an artistic landmark of sensual expression.
128 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1995
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Displaying 1 - 1 of 1 review
August 25, 2012
I am tempted to comment, 'utter rubbish', but that seems a little unkind on an author so I will restrict myself to 'this book did nothing for me at all'. I imagine that it was because I did not understand it.
Supposedly a surreal erotic novel, it is certainly the former and there are a few words that lead to the latter within its covers. However, much as I understood all the words I read, I could not piece them toghether to make any sense.
Perhaps it lost it all in the translation, perhaps it is that I am not familiar with Scandinavian literature but whatever it is, to compare it to Nabokov's 'Lolita' (which it has been) seems a travesty, whether one likes or dislikes the Russian novel - at least it makes sense.
I must confess to quickly skimming the final half a dozen pages because I felt I had wasted enough of my life trying to make head or tail of what came before. I failed miserably and will leave it for others to try and judge for themselves.
Supposedly a surreal erotic novel, it is certainly the former and there are a few words that lead to the latter within its covers. However, much as I understood all the words I read, I could not piece them toghether to make any sense.
Perhaps it lost it all in the translation, perhaps it is that I am not familiar with Scandinavian literature but whatever it is, to compare it to Nabokov's 'Lolita' (which it has been) seems a travesty, whether one likes or dislikes the Russian novel - at least it makes sense.
I must confess to quickly skimming the final half a dozen pages because I felt I had wasted enough of my life trying to make head or tail of what came before. I failed miserably and will leave it for others to try and judge for themselves.
Displaying 1 - 1 of 1 review