PW, I loved that book! The way Roberts portrays his characters through their speech patterns is so deft I quickly fell into the rhythm of each one.
Here, as promised is the excerpt I mentioned before.
Background: Didier a gay man now late in life is recounting his involvement with a much older man when he, Didier was a young teen. He sits a bar in Bombay drinking with the main character.
“He loved me, and I loved him, it was true, but he made an error of judgment. He gave my love a test. He allowed me to discover where he kept a large sum of cash. I could not resist the temptation that he offered me. I took the money and ran away. I loved him, but I took his money and ran away. For all his wisdom, he did not know there is no test for love. Fifteen years later in Genoa [my insert]. I walked the same boulevard of sand where he had taught me to read Rimbaud and Verlaine. And then I saw him. He was sitting with a group of men his own age—he was more than sixty then—and they were watching two elderly gentlemen play chess. He wore a grey cardigan and a black velvet scarf, although the day was not cold. His hair was almost gone.
That silver crown of hair was…gone. …I walked on past him, averting my gaze, so that he should not recognize me. I even pretended a strange, stooping walk to disguise myself. I glanced back at him, watching him as he coughed violently into a white handkerchief. There was blood, I think, staining that white handkerchief. I walked faster and faster until I ran with the haste of a man in terror. …I have lived what many—or most—would call a wicked life. I have done things that could put me in prison, and things that, in some nations, could see me executed. There are many things I have done that I can say, I’m not proud. But there is one act that I can say I am truly ashamed of it. I hurried past that great man, and I had money enough and time enough and good health enough to help him. I hurried past him, not because I felt guilty, or about his sickness, or the commitment it might cost me. I hurried past that good and brilliant man who had loved me, and taught me how to love, simply because he was old—because he was no longer beautiful any more.” ~SHANTARAM by Gregory David Roberts
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