Saturday, July 22, 2017

 

Apocalypse Révélation Archétype de notre espoir


L’Apocalypse de Jésus Christ/Book of Revelation, Jean de Patmos, Jacques Coulardeau, Michel Caubet et al at Academia.edu & Slideshare.net (39)

Le creuset de l'imaginaire fantastique

https://www.academia.edu/23923009/Le_creuset_de_limaginaire_fantastique


Abstract:

On a souvent vilipendé l'Apocalypse de Saint Jean comme n'étant qu'un texte religieux plus ou moins enfermé dans sa propre foi que certains trouve superstitieuse. 

Cet "on" ne rime pas avec "bon" car il a tout faux. Ce texte est une vraie révélation du génie humain et de son imaginaire qui ne sait pas se satisfaire de l'ordinaire et cherche le fantastique, le magique même parfois.

Que ce texte soit attaché à et revendiqué par une religion ne saurait cacher que le fantastique qu'il contient est universel. On le retrouve dans toutes les cultures, dans toutes les religions. 

Les Contes des Mille et Une Nuits sont pleins de récits de ce type. Shahnameh, le livres des rois iraniens, contient des épisodes au moins aussi puissants. Et que dire des mythologies du monde entier. Que dire des religions des Incas, des Aztèques, des Mayas et des Indiens Américains ou Canadiens. 

Que dire même du célèbre poème de Coleridge, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, dont je ne connais pas une seule traduction qui sache rendre le sombre espoir d'une mort certaine que l'on espère pouvoir dompter et amadouer, bref à laquelle on souhaite échapper. 

C'est ce qui fascine, mais il est de bon goût dans certains milieux de torser le nez et de se moquer car il est sûr que n'importe qui le veut peut tomber aussi bas que Charlie. Mais ils manquent l'essentiel car c'est cet essentiel, l'imaginaire humain, qui nous a permis d'émerger en Afrique et d'ensuite migrer dans le monde entier, tous sortis du même nid et rêvant d'une Jérusalem messianique aux couleurs aussi variables et changeantes qu'il y avait de migrations hors d'Afrique, puis dans les quatre coins du monde qui de toute évidence en compte bien plus de quatre.

Découvrez cette beauté et oubliez la ferblanterie des icones religieuses. Ne gardez que le combat héroïque entre l'homme et la Bête, entre la femme et le Dragon, entre le bien du rêve et le mal du cauchemar quand la réalité quotidienne tient plus du cauchemar que du rêve. 

Ce texte est le creuset dans lequel un cri dont certains charlie-simple-d'esprit se sont moqué trouve toute sa profondeur. House'llelujah! monte en écho de l'Hallelujah de Handel comme un chant d'amour qui a trouvé son père.

Research Interests:

Semitic languages, Middle East Studies, Renaissance Studies, Apocalypticism, Biblical Studies, Eschatology and Apocalypticism, Comparative Semitics, Bible, The Apocalypse of John, Biblical Exegesis, Jerusalem, Fantastic Literature, Beyond Good and Evil, Epiphany, Literatura Fantástica, Acts of the Apostles, Salvation, End of the world, and John the Apostle

Friday, July 21, 2017

 

Brexiteering in the Sahara


ETHAN ARKWRIGHT - SUB-SAHARA – 2016

What a book! The story is crazy and utopian but that’s beside the point I want to make. You will love that utopian battle for some extraterrestrial source of energy that has such an immense life span that we cannot even predict its end. Beautiful. And it comes from under the sand of the Sahara, like oil and natural gas, from a city that was still there in the 1950s built around a metal pyramid that contained this supreme source of energy praised, cherished and adored like a god by the people who accepted to die in the room where it was exposed due to some ultrafine invisible deadly poisonous sand or dust. The role of the Nazi is purely secondary and some kind of romantic fallback to the standard evil symbol.

But the book deals with geopolitical global considerations that are surprising in many ways.

A British private though connected to some state services group of adventurers financing some archaeological venture in the south of the Sahara, in Niger precisely, get informed that a hurricane has completely uncovered an ancient city with a metal pyramid in the middle and that they are proceeding to it and the obviously added containers around the midriff of this pyramid. The main archaeologist plays it double and informs a competing but absolutely violent and uncontrollable group to sell her discovery to the better bidder.


The British team then encounters various groups and have to defeat them in some twelve hours or so. First the Chinese attack even before the British team reaches its destination. They are fast and radical but they are defeated of course; Isn’t it natural? Good riddance. Apart from the fact it is not exactly what the Chinese are doing, military intervention and strikes to destroy any competitor, it is funny how nasty this quick episode is and there is no explanation of how they managed to be informed about the move of this private secret British team: there is always a fink or a fissure in all secure situation. Sad, as Trump would tweet.

Then they are confronted to the challenging violent brutal competitor, Titan. But the British team is so naïve that they do not even see that their intervention as Red Cross doctors is a loincloth on the aggressive intent of these Titan assassins. In the meantime they have to defeat a detached unit from the Nigerian army. Easy again, since the Nigerian army is both underequipped and not very brave.

The Titan team, which is only a vanguard, creates havoc but the British team is more creative and they of course manage to take over the whole situation and control the next stage. The only thing they get out of this is that Titan had been informed by one of the members of the initial archaeological team, and this understanding is going to be essential since they have to make sure the betrayal will not succeed and that the source of energy they will recuperate will remain in their own hands. It is in fact the leader of the initial archaeological team who is the double agent, hence the finkish traitor to the people who paid for her initial venture. She is a stoolie canary in other words.

Then they enter the pyramid and have to go through all kinds of traps to recuperate the source of energy that contains an element that is unknown and hence is extraterrestrial, if that is possible, but let’s suspend our disbelief. While the leader of the British team is liquidating the remnants of the initial Titan team, the team inside the pyramid is successful and manages to find their way out in tunnels, after they have been rejoined with their boss who can take over the last leg of the operation.


When they come out they find the Nigerian army, with the French Foreign Legion as their main supporters, in fact their real bosses, and behind a second Titan team that has come to recuperate the source of energy. These Titan people cause a stir that eliminates half the Nigerian army and the French Foreign Legion, as well as half of their own members.

Of course the British team who had managed to securely hide the source of energy in the underground escaping tunnels, fools everyone and distributes the fake source of energy in a certain number of lead containers whose content is verified to be highly radioactive, let’s be NBC for a minute, and the party poopers all go away with their prizes. Unluckily for them these lead containers contain a tracker and as soon as the various parties are gone drones take off from the top of the pyramid, or so, and destroy all the outgoing convoys, except one on the Titan side because they had two vehicles but only one lead container. So the British team picks the real source of energy from where it was hidden and they chase the Titan team, save the only survivor and use their plane to go back to Europe with the promise of paying the mercenaries and releasing them as soon as they arrive in their first stop in Libya, with no strings attached.

Mind you the Americans are only mentioned because they are the worst of them all since they will probably arrive on the site but when everything has been cleaned up and after the battle. The Americans are not ready to become great again, if they ever do.

Conclusion. The Chinese go fast and are first but they are defeated in two seconds. Then the locals, the Nigerians, are ineffective and not very courageous. Then an alternative competing hostile British team using mercenaries is really subtler than the central British private team and fools them at least two or three times but are defeated in the end and their boss is deep-fried in phosphorous. A hot burning hot ending for a man used to massive killings. Then the Nigerian army and their “allies” the French Foreign Legion are just ineffective and easy to fool both by Titan who is following just behind them and by the British team who is just setting a plate of goodies in front of the greedy Frenchies. Should I say it is a plate of French fries with frog legs? I guess I could. And the Americans are the final and totally ineffective dummies who come last for sure and only get the bones of the turkey that everyone else ate, stuffing, dressing and all side dishes, before the Americans were able to even approach the site. Thanksgiving is no longer what it used to be.

Thanks goodness! Only the British people are on top, provided they are on the side of the official state system, but governed by private enterprise imagination and creativity. In other words, only the British can dominate the world if they are deeply and resolutely Brexiteers. And Brexiteers they are, ending their adventure in some kind of all male gentry club on Pall Mall in London drinking some good spirit and smoking some Havana cigars. Maybe that aspect is a little bit excessive and nostalgic, nostalgic of the good old Empire time when there was only one other empire, the French colonial empire. It did not last very long from WW1 to WW2 and we know the catastrophic result of this rivalry. The British will always dream of the world as an eternal and repetitive Falklands campaign.


Dr. Jacques COULARDEAU

Tuesday, July 18, 2017

 

US Justice naked and shameful


LAW AND ORDER (NEW YORK) – THE FOURTH-SEVENTH YEARS – 1993-1996

The interest in these rather old (more than twenty years old) seasons is in the obsolescence of so many things that do not exist anymore or the absence of what is common today. This is TV archaeology. Thus you have the big monstrous PCs, the old dial telephones, the old enormous cars, and no smart phones, no portable phones, no tablets, and even practically no bikes. The traffic is practically fluid and you can park your car anywhere easily. Security is light, the presence of cops and even thieves is light too. The police force is hardly racially integrated, definitely very little at investigating police level and same thing at justice, DA and court level. This vision of the world in New York in the early 1990s is amazing. Do you remember it? Or rather can you imagine it?

The second element is typical of US American-centered vision. Every episode starts with the sentence: “In a criminal justice system,“ wrongly quoted as "In the criminal justice system, the people are represented by two separate, yet equally important, groups: the police, who investigate crime; and the district attorneys, who prosecute the offenders. These are their stories," by http://lawandorder.wikia.com/wiki/Law_%26_Order, because it is not true of any criminal justice system in the world and the use of “A criminal justice system” implies the universality of the remark. I checked I do not know how many dozens of episodes and it was always the same, the use of the American-centered indefinite article. What is shown in this series is purely American. In many other systems in the world investigation means looking into what the prosecution can use and what the defense can use. The defense research or investigation is not paid by the accused and done by his lawyer but most of it is done by the investigating team under the responsibility of a judge.


It is this very justice system of the USA that leads to the worst possible jury decisions that are irreversible because no one can be tried twice for the same offense, even if he has been condemned to a life sentence or even the death penalty. Any appeal has to be on facts that are erroneously processed in the trial itself or eventually, if a judge accepts it, on new elements. Mumia Abu Jamal, the longest-detained prisoner (he broke Nelson Mandela’s record) in the world, is going through a life sentence without parole, which is a pitiful decision of this justice system that reduced the sentence from death to life without parole and yet they refused a real second trial processing the new testimonies brought up by the defense. When, he was first tried his defense attorney was committed to him by the justice department (Miranda) and of course no real investigating was done for the defense because the criminal justice system in the US only investigate to prosecute. In other words, they only look for a culprit and as soon as they find one – or they are convinced they have found one – they are satisfied and go to court.

The series is very clear about that and many episodes show how tricky it is if the defense does not investigate on their own side. They even actually show cases in which the investigation is wrong, the jury finds the defendant guilty and the judge sends him to prison to serve a 25 to life sentence and yet right away afterwards new elements come up showing that the culprit is another man who was exonerated. They cannot reverse the jury decision. The judge cannot change it at all. They have to find a way to beat about the bush, negotiate the obstacle and use a detour to prove the other suspect guilty without bringing the first convicted one into the picture. Then and only then the first trial can be voided. The least we can say is that it is slightly distorted. Some might say corrugated.


That’s probably the best side of this series: it does not hide the fact that the American criminal justice system is deeply problematic. In spite of their Miranda warning that states what follows: “You have the right to remain silent and refuse to answer questions. Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to consult an attorney before speaking to the police and to have an attorney present during questioning now or in the future. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you before any questioning if you wish. If you decide to answer questions now without an attorney present, you will still have the right to stop answering at any time until you talk to an attorney. Knowing and understanding your rights as I have explained them to you, are you willing to answer my questions without an attorney present?“, in spite of that the prosecution will not target both guilt AND innocence but ONLY guilt. And over and over again the episodes show how bungled a case can get when the defense attorney is not diligent enough.

This series shows all judicial mistakes come from the basic police work at the root of everything else afterward. The police work is often based on a personal conviction or even belief more than facts. The advantage of the police shown here is that the lieutenant who follows the investigation performed by his or her (in this case her) detectives can challenge them and the facts they bring up and ask them to look in other directions, to check other sides of the situation. But even so, nothing is clear. The main issue – or one of the main issues – is the role of women and in this particularly series the lieutenant is a woman, what’s more ethnic, and the assistant district attorney Jack McCoy’s assistant, Claire Kincaid, is also a woman. They often bring in a new note, a softening note, at times an alternative approach. But that is not in any way based on truth and the search for truth but on the deep conviction the case of women, or relevant facts that only women can see have been ignored.


The next step in this series is the importance of deals reached by the public prosecutor with the defense before the court decision. Such deals are not dealing with justice nor even the truth but only with speeding up the procedure, save on court expenses and most of the time reduce the sentence by reducing the qualification of the crime. And when wrongly accused the duress is so hard in some situations that the innocent person accepts to plead guilty in exchange of a soft sentence, but yet it is fake justice.

I guess all people who want to understand how the criminal justice system works in the USA have to watch this old series that lasted twenty years, supposedly the longest ever because of this balanced vision of an unbalanced system.


Dr. Jacques COULARDEAU



Monday, July 17, 2017

 

Hallelujah!



Happy the one who can leave in due time
https://www.academia.edu/30541300/Happy_the_one_who_can_leave_in_due_time
Death makes life unforgettablehttp://www.slideshare.net/JacquesCoulardeau/death-makes-life-unforgettable

In 1974, I knew Pierre Boulez indirectly since I was reading the music treatises of Pierre Schaeffer and some other books on the subject of modern music, concrete music, noise if you want, but also plain music from classical to jazz, from negro spiritual to Black and Soul, from the Beatles to The Who and AC/DC or vice versa. I was ranting and raving on David Bowie the non-bipolar fluid gender hermaphrodite. I was already waxing sentimental and dazzled by the genius of Leonard Cohen, and yet I was trying to enter another world, the world of a distorted stressed psyche that has managed to survive a couple of traumas including the one of extreme eyesight impairment from birth to the age of six without any medical assistance. You know: “Don’t Pass Me by!” And I had enjoyed in all the twenty-nine years already behind me all that was sound, music, languages, talk, drama, radio, and so many other things to listen to and to hear even if seeing was not exactly the cup of tea in which I could rinse my “spectacles” or glasses if you prefer.

Here was my mind then (never ever published since 1974 and only read once to a small audience)

DAVIS, CALIFORNIA, 1974

And he looked right and he saw Lawrence
And he looked left and he saw Terence
And in front of him he saw Stephens
And there and here someone else
                               Someone more
A Face anonymous and placid
       Amorphous and tacit
A face with a nose and two eyes
       With a pose and two lies
One for him and one for the world
And the pose of the comfort
                               Of the mind
We had tried hard to break the lurid front-lights
                               To jump into the dark pit
                                           Of the tender-footed neophytes
The vertigo of a mosquito
       Attracted by the bite
       The fervid taste of blood
       And the pounding grind of the slap
That will forever stop the flight
Of the buzzing nuisance
To a sad inacceptance
                       
The clown was standing in front of his audience

And then all of a sudden
The bright imagination beam
Takes in its tight spot the face
Of what among others that is more
                               And yet nothing more
                   That is for an instant
                               And already no more
Of him he flippantly likes
       And he recreates in his mind
                   In his flesh
       Recreates with his quivering eyelids
                   Good morning but don’t touch me
                   I love you but don’t touch me
                   I want you but don’t touch me
                   I have you but don’t touch me
And phantasy phantasizes the phantasmic phantasms
       Of his desire
He plays his stringy show
On a stringent note of maybe I can
                               Maybe I could
                                           Maybe I might
                   Make him understand
       The turn of my covetousness
       The counterturn of my ravenousness
       The stand of my desirousness

The clown was standing in front of his audience
And got no answer not even a clap

He relapsed in his voyeurism
He traced the fine of an ankle
                   The line of a leg
                               The mine of a thigh
                                           That shivers at his breath
The lip brushes the softness of the hairs
The tongue waters the skin of his flesh
The fingers meet into the width of a palm
Cupping to retain the wine of the crotch
                   The milk of the breast
That mango juice he pines for
And lift it to his mouth
Furnishing his palate
       With the sultry caressing lime
       Green like the never ripe passion of his heart
Acid like the never-moored
            Overflying Dutchman
                        Of his dearth
Coating his throat with the reviving paste
       That springs high
                   That digs deep
                               That will never germinate
                               And yet will carry more fruit
                   Than the carob tree of yon savannah
                   Dead-like and lifeless
                   Like a bug dried in the moonshine
                               Silent
                               Dark
                               And fatefully immobile
There the cross of the long-legged roads
There were the east and the west meet
In the climax of their zenith
In the apex of their noon
The south emerges
                   Soothing and simmering
The flames in the eyes
The thirst in the mind
With a taste of roundness
With a flavor of boldness
A bouquet and a fragrance
Heady and exhilarating
Like the foreplay of the skin
                   Over the sharp edge of the blade
                               Of the brit milah of fervid tradition
Ready to penetrate
                   The soft sweet bread of the flesh

The clown was standing in front of his audience
And got no answer not even a clap
From the unreachable posse of indifferent masks

                               Coulardeau Jacques
                               Davis June 1974


– Pierre Boulez – David Bowie –
– Leonard Cohen –
Blissful Recollection of the Future

Music wind of the mind
Crawling creeping sliding
In out through
Ears eyes skin

Music tempo of the soul
Beating dancing swinging
Up down gone
Hands feet head

Music tempest of the heart
Loving hugging cuddling
Back forth
            All around
Chest breasts
Elbows and arms

Sitting in the dark gloom of the abbey church I listen to the opening of some symphony that reverberates under the vault and among the columns.
A butterfly flutters gracefully in the sunshine and perches itself on my knee in some green meadow behind the summer house of the vacation.
Snowflakes hover in the air and lightly cover the sidewalk of the still benighted street of my city just one week before Christmas in the cold morning air.
On the big square on a bench my street homeless friend wakes up every morning when I come and every morning I give him half my ten thirty snack.
And all the time some music resonates in my brain and tells me in a whisper between the notes, among the keys and codas, a message that I will remember.
Ever!
“Go your way and keep in your fists the acorn you saved last September, keep it for the forlorn forgotten forsaken squirrel of an alley urchin that has no shelter and that longs for love.”

An acorn
A walnut
An apple
A pear
Shared and split in half
Bestowed and received
With a hungry smile
With two eager lips
With many ravenous teeth
Flat sharp pure tonic C

The schoolboy offers in one hand
The sidewalk wanderer gathers with both hands
Raises his eyes and locks them
On the blue irises pierced with a dark question

Why?

A voice from on high then vibrates like a tuning fork

“I won’t pass you by, I promise!
“But don’t vanish and go, ever!”

Jacques COULARDEAU
Olliergues, February 9, 2017




Boulez-Bowie-Cohen @Academia.edu & SlideShare.net (74)

Happy the one who can leave in due time
https://www.academia.edu/30541300/Happy_the_one_who_can_leave_in_due_time

 

Death makes life unforgettable

http://www.slideshare.net/JacquesCoulardeau/death-makes-life-unforgettable

Abstract:

Three living stars have just died in the field of music. Three supernovas that were a galaxy of their own. Leonard Cohen, David Bowie and Pierre Boulez, the whole western world in a nutshell, Canada, Great Britain and France, and the last one directed and recorded Wagner as well as Frank Zappa. A whole world is leaving and we are left alone in the orphanage our world has become.

And yet they leave in, our hands, in our ears and in our eyes a whole world of illumination, hallucination, inspiration and exquisite frustration. We have to build tomorrow’s world with what they have just granted us as their heritage, as our inheritance. Let’s take care of it for ever and ever.

Dr. Jacques Coulardeau

Research Interests:

Music, Musicology, Popular Music, Death, Musicians, and Pop Singers

 

Gay fantasy haunted by cats and minstrels


LILIA BLANC – KING’S LAMENT – 2016

Though during the first fifth of the novel we do not really know what the stake and objective of it is, it finally after some 120 pages becomes clear and then the fantasy changes from some feudal old plot to an erotic, and in some chapters absolutely graphic and explicit gay threesome adventure. Welcome to the planet where kings are all gay and like threesomes, at times – for the sake of having some heir – bisexual.


If you are not in that kind of gay – and marginally lesbian – fantasy or erotica, you better forget about it. If you are able to understand love is not a question of sexual orientation, you may have a chance to go through the story and enjoy it. This complicated love story is punctuated with feudal fights or battles, and that’s the aspect I am most critical about.


There is little unity in the feudal struggle of this ousted and clandestine young heir to the throne that was taken over by a monster queen from the south, a queen that has no name and governs – or rather controls – her (or should I say “its”) kingdom with a band of assassins that – certainly not “who” – can only kill, that’s their function and that’s their nature: they have been reduced to killing. “SAD” as a certain president would tweet. The author tries to save one by making him fall in love with the young underground clandestine ousted king and vice versa by making the young ousted clandestine king fall in love with the spy and assassin that has been appointed by the queen to follow and eventually assassinate him or at least enable him to be assassinated by some of the queen’s soldiers.


You must admit it is not simple. This young king, Inea by name, was helped escape from prison by a minstrel of some kind who actually was the male lover of the young king’s father wo killed himself after his wife was poisoned by the queen’s agents in the court itself, these queen’s agents who were the king’s ministers selling the son to the queen for her to turn him into her play thing. But the author shifts the plan and thus we shift from a threesome-liking king with a wife and a lover identified as a totally owned and possessed minstrel, to his son who falls in love with the minstrel who actually helped him escape the dungeon in which he was supposed to wait for the queen’s decision on his fate, and later on with an assassin who was supposed to infiltrate the fugitive young king’s band by seducing the minstrel, which was easy since the minstrel is absolutely obsessed with and by his hormones.


And there is the gay threesome who is going to take over the feudal scene by securing an alliance with another king, the king of the desert tribes, who is also gay but married to only one man who used to be his own soldier, and faithful to this man who is said to be black, though he is the only who is specified in such a detail.


This being said the novel then turns pathetic as for the love relations between Inea, the young king, Ansyn, the minstrel, and Kaedon, the assassin. Pathetic because they constantly fall part and then more or less manage to come back together. Such a threesome marriage as announced at the end is unique in many ways since it only officially exists for one triple – instead of couple – in one country in the world, Colombia: “Three men who are married to each other, have gained legal recognition for their 'polyamorous' marriage in the conservative Catholic country of Colombia.” (The Sidney Morning Herald, http://www.smh.com.au/video/video-news/video-world-news/three-men-one-marriage-20170615-4v55x.html) And that’s what this author tells us: stories of “Slaves to fantasy and romance,” as the author’s page proclaims on the publisher’s site.


And that’s just the problem. It is not a real fantasy story with only one dynamic, or at least a very dominant dynamic. Too often we forget everything about the queen and the assassins that are chasing this young king and that will come back into the story when an attack will be staged every so often and periodically. At the same time the at least erotic romance that is exclusively gay in its explicit realization and descriptions is constantly broken by elements from the fantasy side of this moon but the love jealousy, rivalry, ambition, possession (and all meaning are needed here from plainly owning the other to haunting him or being haunted by him), is nicely described but does not really reach the absolute level we could expect: it definitely is nothing but desire, hormonal activation, lust, physical contact and penetration and I did not really find the haunting fear and bliss that this penetration is at least parallel to: the use of a sword or a dagger or an arrow, and the use of such warlike weapons is also balancing fear and bliss, bashfulness and lust, and it is thus nothing but the expansion or initiation of some brutal and lustful climax.


That reduces the final battle with the queen to a pantomime of very nasty kids who are destroying the toy or the dolly they had been playing with. There is no veracity, authenticity and reliability in her and since we only meet her in the final battle (in the last five percent of the book) she appears as nothing but a killing robot and fantasy is a genre in which the characters, on both sides of the divide and the pale, are human. Harry Potter’s Voldemort (and he has a name) is a monster but the genius of the author is to develop and uncover the human dimension of him who was made a monster by the mistreatment he suffered in the hands of fellow wizards and witches. There is nothing of the sort here. She is not even a chatbot because she hardly speaks some coherent and human discourse.


But this is a rather general remark I could make on the story. Every character has no freedom of choice or whatever. They are all “SLAVES” of their desires, lust, power, will to dominate, to own, to use. Even the desert king Jalin is shown as being a spoiled brat who plays with a stray kitten picked in the street and who is in love with a black warrior Kiir who literally controls him with his dancing. We have to think of Salome and her seven veils dance. But that is just the point: the dance for Salome is her way to take control of her stepfather and uncle (which makes her a female Hamlet). But the tragic dimension of this Biblical and historical event is lost because there is no stake in the dance. No John the Baptist and no head to get delivered on a silver platter. The death of the unnamed queen is certainly not delivered on a silver platter. And Oscar Wilde’s delirious Salome making love with John the Baptist in words and then with his head is far from this story. Difficult to imitate with Inea since Inea is gay and would not be thrilled by the unnamed queen’s head, except if his gayness were explored as some kind of escape from a deeply morbid and mortiferous personality.


Even if the gay erotica is correct altogether, I just wonder if the author is what his/her name seems to reveal. Is the author a man or a woman? The gay characters are charming but they have no depth and their love making is purely mechanical while their love declarations are purely enslaving possession. Love is a lot more complicated and it cannot be reduced to the instinctual robotic thermodynamics of a few legs, arms and other members encountering the various openings of a few bodies. Even the music of the minstrel and his poetry is not exemplified in any way. It is true and difficult to consider what kind of a creative mental dimension Kaedon would have? Think of Jalin and his fixation on a kitten playing with silver coins. Think of Kiir reduced to a dance, which in a way is creative and mental but we do not penetrate at any time this dimension of this dance: it is only a seductive tool to capture the attention of a grown up though childish kid. Gay romance deserves better than just being a vacillation between erotic scenes and escaping sprees that always end well, plus some fantasy battles to cut up the humdrum bed scenes.


Just enjoy the story as some entertainment. I am sure it is not intended to go beyond this titillating level.


Dr. Jacques COULARDEAU



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