A Ladder to the Sky

by John Boyne

The yearnings that had threatened to annihilate me throughout my youth had diminished over the years, my virginity never conquered, and the relief that accompanied lust’s exile was akin to how one might feel having been unshackled from a wild horse let loose on prairie ground.

I was uncertain what I wanted from him but then what does one want from the Mona Lisa or the statue of David other than to sit silently in their presence and appreciate their enigmatic beauty?

“But if you don’t mind my asking, if you were a quarter Jewish, did you not feel any sense of shame at working with the Nazis?” “Of course I did,” I said. “But what else could I have done? Refused? I would have been shot. Or sent to the camps. And, like you, I wanted to be a writer, and in order to be a writer I needed to stay alive.

It takes a great deal of talent to write as well as you do but, ultimately, if your story is not engaging, if the reader doesn’t feel that it’s entirely yours, then it simply won’t work.”

“The more you read, the more you write, the more the ideas will appear. They’ll fall like confetti around your head and your only difficulty will be deciding which ones to catch and which to let fall to the floor.”

For a time, I had tried to force myself to be attracted to girls but it was no good and I had little interest in pursuing so fruitless a goal. My homosexuality, I knew, was something that I could never change but also something that I could never indulge.

Would there be no end to publishing? he wondered. Perhaps it would be a good idea if everyone just stopped writing for a couple of years and allowed readers to catch up.

there was also the fact that the image of this boy on his knees, his fat lips wrapped around his cock, was repulsive to him. “But you’re very kind to offer,” he added, not wishing to appear rude. “Oh, it’s my pleasure,” said Dash. “I’d do the same for anyone.”

I daresay you’ll send me a copy. I promise I’ll read it.” “Really?” “Of course. I’m moist with anticipation,”

“People seem to think that a life is worthless unless it’s shared with someone,” said Maurice with a sigh. “But why must that be the case? I’ve been married, I know what the experience is like, and while there were certainly times when it was pleasurable there were just as many times when I wished that I was alone, not answerable to anyone, not needing to account for my every movement throughout the day.

I’ve seen so many people’s lives destroyed by failed love affairs or unrequited passions that I’ve always felt rather fortunate to remain essentially disinterested. Why would anyone want to be part of such calamitous drama, after

Fury.

it ws called fear earlier and later began being called fury

“You’ve heard the wonderful news, I presume?” “No. Has Mr. Trump died?”

I’d only been at their table a few minutes but had already managed to insult them both and make them each feel like shit, so I was beginning to feel that my work there was done.