Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Love, again
"I have come back to the same question: how is it I lived comfortably for years and years and then suddenly am made ill with longing - for what? By deprivation - of what? Who is it that lies awake in the dark body and heart and mind, sick with yearning for warmth, a kiss, comfort?" Love, again by Doris Lessing
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This book is maddening: how dare she take the name of love in vain like this? Facile infatuation with silly young men and women 80 years dead? This might have been (just about) acceptable in the Golden Notebook (all the characters were 20 somethings) but not in grown people, surely? What is she trying to say? That even the best remain infantile till they die? Not so Doris, not so. You are not telling the truth.
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