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561 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 1977
Now, a short summary of what I think and feel about this story.
He wasn't obsessed, as Ragland had accused him of being. He was simply a man who liked to see a thing through to its natural conclusion. Once he'd had her, that was all he wanted.
As he imagined the sweet invasion of that young body, he found stimulation in every aspect of her, her face and hair, her shoulders and breasts, and most curious of all, he imagined her back, the scars for which he was responsible causing the greatest stimulation of all.
He bowed his head, mindful of his past sins, the offenses he'd already committed against the young face which looked at him without humility. He did not understand the face. All he knew was that he was fascinated by it.
That evening, on her knees before him, he thought he'd seen a new submission in her face. Now he realized bitterly that he'd seen nothing. Apparently she preferred starvation to his presence.
WHY ONLY 3.5 STARS?
It was over in a remarkably short time…
The mere thought of that one name [Thomas Eden] was nameless medicine, causing her thoughts to cease as she channeled a mesmerizing hate outward, a hate so exalting, so ennobling, that she found she was again capable of lifting her head, a reviving hate that warmed her as surely as though she were sitting before a fire, a hate-filled harbor, a safe hate, a hate beyond mortification and disgust, a redeeming, healing consciousness of hate, canceling all new spheres of liability to pain, converting her within the instant into a statue, sitting upright, a divine hate, feeding her, a hate without qualification or appointment, without authority or opposition, an intentional hate, like a true religion without complexity or resolution, a hate that was pure joy.

In all her careful planning, she underestimated one small matter - the oceanic distance, under certain circumstances, between one and ten.










