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13 Feb

He had conquered it once, he couldn’t say when, and now it had reawakened in him: the juvenile’s disgust, anxiety ridden, for the naked body.

Bird sensed that the octopus of disgust would extend its tentacles even when he turned to his wife, who now lay in a hospital bed thinking about the baby How many thousands of hours had he been avoiding this stuff?

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The nosing dog now has the look of an animal less than healthy, the bed of straw stinks its sweaty heat.

But surprise is more Oë’s forte in metaphor; here we have Bird watching through a glass door as his lover Himiko has a shower: Bird saw back and buttocks and legs, and the sight filled him with a disgust he couldn’t repress; his flesh turned to goosepimples.

Bird rose on his toes as if to flee a darkness alive with ghosts: and then he was running, trembling, past the bedroom and back to the familiar rattan chair.

Did he perhaps point out the metal “stare” of the machine?

Unless we have the Japanese text beside us – and can read it – it’s difficult to attribute responsibility. Glancing around him like a hunting dog nosing for a spoor, Bird followed Himiko inside.