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plpietra 's review for:
Larry's Party
by Carol Shields
But it isn't true. It is impossble to live a whole life sealed inside the constraints of a complex body. Sooner or later, and sometimes by accident, someone is going to reach out a hand or a tongue or a morself of genital flesh and enter that valved darkness. This act can be thought of as a precious misfortune or the ripest of pleasures. The skin will break open, or the cell wall, and all the warm fluids of life will be released - whether we wish it or not - to pour freely into the mixed matter of the world, that surging, accomodating ocean. Larry Weller is disturbed by this notion, but oddly comforted, too. He is recovering; in a sense he's spent his whole life in a state of recovery, but has only begun, at age forty-five, to breathe in the vital foreknowledge of what will become of the sovereign self inside him, that luxurious ornament. He'd like that self to be more musical and better lit, he'd like to possess a more meticulous sense of curiosity, and mostly he'd like someone, some thing to love. He's getting close. He feels it. He's halfway awake now, and about to wake up fully.