ok – this is the

ok – this is the long post that I tried to publish yesterday – an enthusiastic rant about the Ben Richards novel I’m reading. Actually, it was more case of copying Vaughan’s idea and quoting a hefty chunk from the book. I’m so impressed by Richards’ style of writing (as always) – I wanted to share this piece with you, even though I had only got to page 19. To me, it speaks about the sort of vulnerabilities we all have, and the character Mel has the same sort of thought processes that I do – the ones about love and vulnerability. Fear of loss too.
Anyway, have a read of this, and see what you think:

“Mel took the paper out of the bin and straightened it so that she could see the picture of the mangled train. How strange, how fragile was the human body; Mel’s hand with its two familiar rings, its intricate mechanisms of knuckles and joints, the hand that had gesticulated and clutched and caressed, the hand that was now smoothing the creases from the paper, this hand could be destroyed in an instant, could be ripped from its arm, could be torn to shreds. It was no stronger, no more durable than any other human hand. Flesh which seemed so solid, so natural, so permanent, could disappear altogether, could be scattered across a battlefield, could be scorched to a shadow on the pavement. She remembered the calcinated body of a soldier trying to climb from his tank in one of the most grotesque photos of the recent air-wars, his burned hands gripping the metal in one last useless effort. He had probably smoked cigarettes, joked with his comrades, teased his little sister, ruffled her hair. And what about Patrick? He could still rely on his body, he would pad to the front door when she came in, glad to see her, they could play the intimate word games of a couple who knew each other very well. He was real, he was solid. But what if he started to decline, to melt away before her very eyes? What if his body succumbed, what if there were no Patrick any longer, just the parts of him that were seared on to her memory – the strange shadows of loss?”