IAN MCEWAN: Pornography
“…O’Byrne used to call him Little Runt. At Harold’s elbow a miniature radio rasped…”
Two brothers, one, O’B, ten years younger but taller than the other, H.
H runs an ‘adult’ magazine shop business and employs O’B there.
O’B is playing fast and loose with two nurses, but neither knows of the other. One nurse in particular is off the wall in what she makes O’B do for her sexual needs. Whatever the engrained state of his tackle.
I could go on…but don’t go there!
This is a remarkable stylish portrait of such a scenario and its righteous but disturbing outcome! A highly transgressive version of the scenario in the above Pritchett. But here hawking into a paper hankie.
Panties and gas mask, notwithstanding. Leather jacket versus leather jacket. Feel the quality, not the width. Go to Ipswich Bus Station. Go to a disused church in the Brixton end of Norbury. Go to the foot of the Post Office Tower. I’ve been to all three of these general venues and now I’m made fully to go there, as sent by this story, a ‘there’ that I hoped never to go to! — “cocked his head towards the invisible ceiling,…” And, from my own worm-eyed view, a different concupiscent tower was prematurely toppled at the point of its optimal sensitisation. A memorable story I hope never to remember.
“O’Byrne decided to give her one last chance and with naked grunts hauled himself on to his elbow…”
My previous reviews of this author: https://dflewisreviews.wordpress.com/tag/ian-mcewan/
Full context of this review: https://nemonymousnight.wordpress.com/kingsley-amis-masons-life/