Fiction. In these seven new stories Paul Bowles ranges widely in time, in form, and in geographic area-from Massachusetts to Morocco, from 1932 to the 1970s. Portraits and contemporary scenes mix conventional narration with experimental monologues, and the volume concludes with a tale presented as six letters written to a bitter, dying man. The formal versatility is as arresting as the content. The whole is proof (if it were needed) that, as Gore Vidal remarks, Bowle's art is as disturbing as ever.
Paul Frederic Bowles grew up in New York, and attended college at the University of Virginia before traveling to Paris, where became a part of Gertrude Stein's literary and artistic circle. Following her advice, he took his first trip to Tangiers in 1931 with his friend, composer Aaron Copeland.
In 1938 he married author and playwright Jane Auer (see: Jane Bowles). He moved to Tangiers permanently in 1947, with Auer following him there in 1948. There they became fixtures of the American and European expatriate scene, their visitors including Truman Capote, Tennessee Williams and Gore Vidal. Bowles continued to live in Tangiers after the death of his wife in 1973.
Bowles died of heart failure in Tangier on November 18, 1999. His ashes were interred near the graves of his parents and grandparents in Lakemont, New York.
Very uneven collection of late career (1988) short stories by the master of the form Paul Bowles. Bowles is one of my favorite authors but I was disappointed by this book as it feels like it was put together only to fulfill a need to have a new Bowles book at any cost. Two of the stories, the macabre tale of Dr. Hugh Harper who has a taste for human blood and the story about the shocking after dinner entertainment of the very sinister Sir Nigel, are really good and right there with Bowles' classics. However, the three experimental monologues (New York 1965, Massachusetts 1932 and Tangier 1975) are almost unreadable and should have been left in the top drawer. The last and longest piece in the book, Unwelcome words, is a set of imaginary (?) letters written by an aging Bowles to a wheelchair bound friend. It has its moments but somehow fails to touch. Nevertheless, I think this collection is worth reading on the strength of the Dr. Harper and Sir Nigel stories.