De wetten van de aantrekkingskracht

New Hampshire. Against a background of social desolation and family dysfunction, we get the internal perspectives of a group of young adults - that manage to flunk courses for which the only real examination consists of being able to open a door.

Disdainfully they fuck left, right, and center, working through mountains of abusive substances.

No matter! They are masters of the universe offspring, and bound to form the next generation of a bored, nihilist elite, lacking even the remotest sense of entitlement.

Funny how these perspectives don’t even relate, even though they cover the same events. A mesh of misunderstanding rooted in total lack of empathy.

Until the end, that is; which, in my reading, is the end of the road (pun intended) for the apex asshole amongst this joyless band of little shits.

This is not BEE’s finest. It lacks the focus, the pain and the urgency of the peaks of his oeuvre. I remember reading it, decades ago, and getting swept by the flow, the rhythm, of the narrative. I did not find that mood again.

1) "It was beginning to dawn on her then that she didn't know which one she had (technically) lost her virginity to (though odds were good that it was the film student from N.Y.U. and not the townie), even though that seemed to be beside the point for some reason on this post-virginal morning. She was vaguely aware that she was bleeding, but only a little. The guy from N.Y.U. burped in his sleep. There was vomit (whose?) all over Lorna's trashcan. The townie was still laughing, doubled up naked with laughter. Her bra was still on. And she said to no one, though she had wanted to say it to Daniel Miller, 'I always knew it would be like this.'"

2) "We start making out but she forgets her diaphragm so she tries to put it in, squeezing the foam all over her hand but not getting any into it and she's too drunk to know where to put it. I try to fuck her anyway but she keeps moaning 'Peter, Peter' so I stop. I'm thinking about throwing up but do some bong hits instead, then flee. Deal with it. Rock'n'roll."

3) "Tonight. I've spent all afternoon in a bath full of scented water, preparing, cleansing, soaping, shaving, oiling myself for You. I have not eaten in two days. I wait. I am good at that. I listen to old soon-to-be-forgotten songs and wait for Tonight and for You. Wait for that final moment. A moment so filled with such expectance and longing that I almost do not want to witness its occurrence. But I'm ready. One fine day you'll want me for your girl, my radio cries. That's right. Tonight."

4) "There was a dour lunch at Mortimer's with friends of his from Washington. A somber birthday dinner at Lutece with a girl I'd met at The Blue and Gold, Patrick and his girlfriend, Evelyn, who was a junior executive at American Express, and my father. This was two months after he had mother committed to Sandstone and the thing I most remember about that birthday was the fact that no one mentioned it. No one ever mentioned it except for Patrick, who, in confidence to me, whispered, 'It was about time.' Patrick gave me a tie that night."