POTHOS
Author
PHILIPPE MALZIEU
Author Bio
It’s always difficult to speak about himself, we are always a bad judge. How to say. I read many books, all the books for a long time. Pothos is my first book.
Many author influence me. In France, Queneau, Proust and Céline (only for the style), Chateaubriand (great classic style)…But I like American, german and Japanese literature. All books can interested me.
I’m physician. I travel a lot and I have lived in Tahiti and Munich. I like alterity. I like to meet people and to discover a country by its literature is a good way.
Description
Sex lies and manipulation. A story of love and desire.
Pothos is the brother of Eros. He personifies the desire in its various forms, passionate, burning, sexual… but also unsatisfied
Book excerpt
I pass in front of the gynecology wing. It’s right here I met Juliet. My hospital training was going poorly. I chose a really conceited young intern. The irony of which I generally abuse against them is not very pleasing. I was punished. I found myself relegated to the Department of abortions. Far from taking it as a vexation, I decided to work hard, fascinated by the human reality that I was discovering. She was an actress. She shared her time between courses and theaters. I saw her for the first time at consultations. Patients were arriving one right after the other. The majority had a serious face. Men often judge abortion with ideological reasoning. I can testify that guilt is almost always there, significantly present. Most women would show great dignity. Juliette was overwhelming. She was pale, responding laconically to the interrogation. I did not want to attend the intervention. I then went to talk to her. I escorted her at home. I wondered why she accepted. In her distress, was I reassuring? Was I taking advantage of her inferiority to impose myself? Wasn’t our relationship ontologically vitiated by the way we met? I’d always be associated to the abortion she had. She was renting a furnished room on the fifth floor, there were no elevators. Old engraving works, bugged photos, a cup of tea, books everywhere, nothing but predictable. The only missing thing would be the cat. I do not know why she wanted to make love immediately. The prospect of a bloody vulva did not enchant me. She was persuasive. Her attention seemed excessive. She became calm. I watched her rest: her skin grain, the slight cavity near the corner of her labia, the shallow depression on each side of the hip, her legs. I discovered linear inside wrist scars.
Author Website
http://www.philippe-malzieu-pothos.net/