'The Book Of Revelation' (by Rupert Thomson) started out as a strange tale of sexual shenanigans, but then moved on to with dealing with what had happened, and trust me, it's not too cheerful a tale.
A male dancer in Amsterdam is kidnapped by three hooded women, held hostage in a white room, abused and raped, and suddenly let free. He then tries to get on with his life, doesn't confess what has happened to anyone (apart form his long term girlfriend), and tries to find the captors, who he only knows through their bodies and actions, as they kept their faces hidden throughout the ordeal. At first l was not so keen on the tale as it struck me as another posh git writing porn trash either to make money or to shock and show how 'street' he is (similar to the feelings l kind of harboured about Jonny Glynn's 'The Seven Days of Peter Crumb) book, but l gave that one the benefit of the doubt (and l don't know Glynn's background). Maybe that is more to do with my own preconceptions and attitudes, because the 'Revelation' book progressed as l didn't expect it to, it was well written, and l can' t really have any complaints about the motives of it, as it was so entertaining, and left you wanting more. I shall purchase more of his tales, but in second hand form only, as l still have my principles (and fucked up attitudes), unless l find out in the meantime that he is a fine upstanding fellow, because let's face it, people can't help their backgrounds.
toodle pip
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