Book thirty-nine: Beatrice and Virgil by Yann Martel

The author of The Life of Pi does it again. This book was strange. Weird. I almost didn't finish, but that has more to do with the one icky character than bad writing. The writing is superb. And this is such an unusual story. There are horrific descriptions of acts of torture but it's all worth it in the end. Enjoy this excerpt in which Beatrice and Virgil discuss a pear:

(Part of my) favorite excerpt:

Beatrice: And what does a pear taste like?

Virgil: Wait. You must smell it first. A ripe pear breathes a fragrance that is watery and subtle, its power lying in the lightness of its impression upon the olfactory sense. Can you imagine the smell of nutmeg or cinnamon?

Beatrice: I can.

Virgil: The smell of a ripe pear has the same effect on the mind as these aromatic spices. The mind is arrested, spellbound, and a thousand and one memories and associations are thrown up as the mind burrows deep to understand the allure of this beguiling smell - which it never comes to understand, by the way.

Beatrice: But how does it taste? I can't wait any longer.

Virgil: A ripe pear overflows with sweet juiciness.

Beatrice: Oh, that sounds good.

Virgil: Slice a pear and you will find that its flesh is incandescent white. It glows with inner light. Those who carry a knife and a pear are never afraid of the dark.

Beatrice: I must have one.

Virgil: The texture of a pear, its consistency, is yet another difficult matter to put into words. Some pears are a little crunchy.

Beatrice: Like an apple?

Virgil: No, not at all like an apple! An apple resists being eaten. An apple is not eaten, it is conquered. The crunchiness of a pear is far more appealing. It is giving and fragile. To eat a pear is akin to ... kissing.

Beatrice: Oh, my. It sounds good.

Virgil: The flesh of a pear can be slightly gritty. And yet it melts in the mouth.

Beatrice: Is such a thing possible?

Virgil: With every pear. And that is only the look, the feel, the smell, the texture. I have not even told you of the taste.

Beatrice: My God!

Virgil: The taste of a good pear is such that when you eat one, when your teeth sink into the bliss of one, it becomes a wholly engrossing activity. You want to do nothing else but eat your pear. You would rather sit than stand. You would rather be alone than in company. You would rather have silence than music. All your senses but taste fall inactive. You see nothing, you feel nothing - or only as it helps you to appreciate the divine taste of your pear.

Beatrice: But what does it actually taste like?

Virgil: A pear tastes like, it tastes like ... (He struggles. He gives up with a shrug.) I don't know. I can't put it into words. A pear tastes like itself.

Beatrice: (sadly) I wish I had a pear.

Virgil: And if I had one, I would give it to you.

(Silence.)

26 down, plus 13.