(pages 21-32)

In the next section, “you” (possibly a different “you”) go out into the country to buy some land.  “You” gleefully fantasise about shooting intruders.  “You” then go out to dinner, and get annoyed because the waitress doesn’t fawn over “you” in the manner to which “you” have become accustomed.  Then a local alligator-farmer* comes along and kicks “you” out of your booth, thus establishing himself as my favourite character so far.  And the waitress actually does talk to him, completing “your” well-deserved humiliation.

There is then a section about animals with hooks on their penises.  Apparently, this is quite inconvenient.

The next section switches to the first person, which is handy because it means I don’t have to keep typing “you” anymore.  The narrator and his girlfriend are in France.  There’s a mention of their college years, which means that the two of them are about the same age, which probably means that she’s about to get cheated on with a fourteen-year-old.  There’s a weird bit where the girlfriend tries to get the narrator to drink champagne off her breasts, but then she pours it wrong and it ends up going all over the bed.  The narrator asks her to marry him, but then ignores her in favour of a report from work on the plane back.  Like I said, she’s gonna get cheated on.  Poor girl.

There is then another quote from The Iliad.  Like the last one, it’s about Achilles.  I’d have assumed that this was a reference to Achilles’ heel, and that the male characters’ lust for young women is supposed to be their one tragic weakness, but I’m not sure the story really supports that.  I mean, the guy from the last entry found that sleeping with underage prostitutes actually helped his career, so he’s not much of a cautionary tale.

Now we’re back to “you” again.  “You” wake up frightened in the night, after dreams of losing all your money and “fighting with a woman as old as you are about whether or not you can afford to see a movie.”  “As old as you are”!  The horror!

Anyway, “you” are in bed with a woman whose name “you” can’t remember.  The point is that she’s younger than you.  Oh, and she “find(s) you fascinating,” because that idea didn’t make me feel queasy enough in the introduction.  “You” angst about the fact that “you” have just slept with a young, pretty woman who clearly likes you.  “You” are such a tortured soul.  Luckily, in the morning, “you” see her walk naked to the shower, notice that she doesn’t have any “sagging flesh,” and immediately cheer up.

We get a strange witticism about running (apparently you shouldn’t talk and run at the same time), and then we’re back to “you.”  “You” are letting “your” new girlfriend take “you” to clubs, bars and cafes that “you” inwardly sneer at.  We are told that “you” love “your” younger girlfriend despite her terrible taste in date locations because “you” appreciate the fact that she isn’t jaded and bitter yet, but I think “you” just like having someone around who “you” can look down your nose at.

There’s a quote about Agamemnon taking the slave-girl Briseis away from Achilles.  The odd thing is, Briseis wasn’t hanging around with either Achilles or Agamemnon because she “found them fascinating,” but because she was, you know, a slave.  She didn’t have any choice.  This seems like an important distinction.

There’s another queasy bit about older men smiling patronisingly at their younger girlfriends’ ignorance.  Then we go back to first-person, and we’re talking about a divorce.  Surprise.

Guess why they’re getting divorced.  Go on, guess.  You’ll never get it in a million years.  (Hey, his wife deserved it, because she had small boobs and asked him annoying questions.  What was he supposed to do?)

Then the narrator describes teenage girls’ bodies as “freshly baked, ready to eat,” and I think I’m done with this for now.