A blog is just like a large book - a way though it you get sidetracked and read / write something else. In Brighton Festival time now so reviewing shows almost every night. The first one was a cracker - three man improvised show and none the worst for that. Funny , fizzing with physical inventiveness - I suppose I could post the whole review here, but I'll wait and post the link to the review sites once it's published.
Still reading A Death in the Family, which has some great sustained lyrical writing about being a teenager, first love - it does get that sense of the romantic that overwhelms the sexual, while being so tied up with it. There's a wonderful passage where he is upstairs with one of his fiorst girl friends, and she takes off her top and bares her breasts.He is, of course transfixed, but also strangely unmoved - and it captures that huge adolescent sex drive, where all you think you want is access to those mysterious warm folds of a woman's body only to find that there is something missing if the romance isn't there. I think this compares well with the female experience of having sex and finding it underwhelming and not that exciting (well described in Janet Street-Porters autobiography Baggage, that I just read in one day a few days ago,and countless other women's biogs and fiction).
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