aurrai reviewed Monkey grip by Helen Garner
None
5 stars
A sample of the text:
Away he rushed to Tasmania, and my tension was reduced by half, and my nights were undisturbed. But I missed him, and missed his thin warm body in my bed; and thought about his dreadful cramps from the sweating, and his life with nothing much in it.
He came back in the middle of the night, woke me by striking a match at the door of my room, sat on my bed quiet and not stoned, told me how he'd hated Hobart except for seeing his mother and winning forty dollars at the casino.
Oh Javo, your frantic life. I looked at him with no emotion except weariness and a small tinge of fear, or distates--not for him, but for the eddying pointlessness of his battle with each day.
'You could get in here with me, if you liked,' I said, wanting him to. …
Away he rushed to Tasmania, and my tension was reduced by half, and my nights were undisturbed. But I missed him, and missed his thin warm body in my bed; and thought about his dreadful cramps from the sweating, and his life with nothing much in it.
He came back in the middle of the night, woke me by striking a match at the door of my room, sat on my bed quiet and not stoned, told me how he'd hated Hobart except for seeing his mother and winning forty dollars at the casino.
Oh Javo, your frantic life. I looked at him with no emotion except weariness and a small tinge of fear, or distates--not for him, but for the eddying pointlessness of his battle with each day.
'You could get in here with me, if you liked,' I said, wanting him to. He got in beside me, and hugged me, and I felt that slow rush of pleasure, or love, at the touch of his dry, hot skin. I laid my face against his bony one and clumsily dared to love him.
