"James Morrow - City of Truth" - читать интересную книгу автора (Morrow James)

To wit:

Dear Mom and Dad: Today we learned how to survive in case we're ever stranded in the woods —
what kind of bark to eat and stuff. Counselor Rick says he never heard of anyone actually using these
skills. Your son, Toby.

And also:

Dear Mom and Dad: There's a big rat trap in the pantry here, and guess who always sneaks in at night
and finds out what animal got caught and then sets it free? Me! Counselor Rick says we're boring.
Whoops, out of space. Your son, Toby.

It was early, barely 7 A.M., but already Booze Before Breakfast was jammed to its crumbling brick
walls. I made my way through a conglomeration of cigarette smoke and beer fumes, through frank sweat
and honest halitosis. A juke box thumped out Probity singing Copingly Ever After. The saloon keeper,
Jimmy Breeze, brought me the usual — a raspberry Danish and a Bloody Mary — setting them atop the
splintery cedar bar. I told him I had no cash but would pay him tomorrow. This was Veritas. I would.

I spotted only one free chair — at a tiny, circular table across from a young woman whose wide face
and plump contours boasted, to this beholder's eye, the premier sensuality of a Rubens model. Peter Paul
Rubens was much on my mind just then, for I'd recently criticized not onlyThe Garden of Love but also
The Raising of the Cross .

Come here often? she asked as I approached, my plastic-wrapped Danish poised precariously atop my
drink. Her abundant terra-cotta hair was compacted into a modest bun. Her ankle-length green dress
was made of guileless cambric.

I sat down. Uh-huh, I mumbled, pushing aside the sugar bowl, the napkin dispenser, and the woman's
orange peels to make room for my Bloody and Danish. I always stop in on my way to the Wittgenstein.

You're a critic? Even in the endemic gloom of Booze Before Breakfast, her smooth, unpainted skin
glowed.

I nodded. Jack Sperry.

Can't say I'm impressed. It doesn't take much intellectual prowess, does it?

She could be as honest as she liked, provided I could watch her voluptuous lips move. What line areyou
in? I asked.

I'm a writer. Her eyes expanded: limpid, generous eyes, the cobalt blue of Salome's So-So
Contraceptive Cream. It has its dangers, of course. There's always that risk of falling into ... what's it
called?

Metaphor?

Metaphor.
 There were no metaphors in Veritas. Metaphors were lies. Flesh could be like grass, but it neverwas
grass. Use a metaphor in Veritas, and your conditioning instantly possessed you, hammering your skull,