I was sitting alone at a table in Solid Rock (a rock/metal bar in glasgow) having a...i forget. maybe a beer, maybe a whisky... and reading Cathures, a book of poems by glasgow's first poet laureate, Edwin Morgan.
the guy asked what i was reading. i told him and we started talking. he said he was just finished reading a book called venus in furs, have i read it? no. we then start talking about velvet underground, arthur lee, 13th floor elevators... etc. we have a few drinks together. get pissed. he suggests we swap books and meet there the following week to discuss the books. i swapped books with him but didn't return the following week.Edwin Morgan (taken from Glasgow Sonnets)Around them the cracks deepen, the rats crawl.
The kettle whimpers on a crazy hob.
Roses of mould grow from ceiling to wall.
The man lies late since he has lost his job,
smokes on one elbow, letting his coughs fall
thinly into an air too poor to rob.
I've started reading Venus in Furs. It's a gorgeously written thing, sumptuous language. reminds me of the wee bits of Nabokov that I've bothered to read. the language used is luxurious. highly poetic prose.
It's about a man (Severin) who falls in love with a woman (Wanda) but he is worried that she will leave him (she promises a year together and after the year she may marry him). He can't wait. He wants her. The fear of losing her to another is greater than he can bear. he wants her completly as his wife, obedient, loving, his. if not, he wants her to degrade, betreay (openly), belittle and abuse him, in short, dominate him.
Masochism (the psychoanalytical term) derives its name from the author of this book, Masoch.
I'm already in love with the book. The writing is sensual and passionate and the story of obsession is intoxicating.
Anyone else read this?
