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plpietra 's review for:
Perfume: The Story of a Murderer
by Patrick Süskind
Grenouille's case was nothing of the sort. There was not the least notion of God in his head. He was not doing penance nor waiting for some supernatural inspiration. He had withdrawn solely for his own personal pleasure, only to be nearer to himself. No longer distracted by anything external, he basked in his own existence and found it splendid. He lay in his stony crypt like his own corpse, hardly breathing, his heart hardly beating — and yet lived as intensively and dissolutely as ever a rake had lived in the world outside.