January 02, 2005
I read it with some fava beans and a nice Chianti
After sorting through some of my more recently-shelved books, I was happy to see a copy (first printing, uncut, no less) of Thomas Harris' third instalment concerning Hannibal Lecter. I devoured the book, with its sporadic and unnerving lapses into the present tense, much as its protagonist might devour a seasonal white truffle. Hilarious horror, mocking macabre, and silly suspense. I wonder if the movie is any good: apparently the author went through several revisions, pre-publication, with the director and stars of the previous film incarnation, Silence of the Lambs (which had a pivotal scene filmed down the road from where I grew up in Pittsburgh!).
A tender side-story involves a curious character who wants to see all the extant paintings by Jan Vermeer. I half-assedly tried ditto several years ago, only to find myself staring at nothing at the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum. I did see some beautiful works in DC, NYC, and London, but have yet to see any of the Dutch or German holdings.
