BusterStronghart@Gmail.com


"Kaput"
Curzio Malaparte

St Eve:

I am working my way into "Kaput."

You and the blurb writers describe it as a hellish description of the Eastern Front, and the depravity of man.

Although I am not far in, perhaps 60 pages, I am reading a master of description. Sights, smells, the deep Finnish forest, the endless lake, night and dawn--a master. There has been only a hint of what is to come, and because of my recognition of Malaparte's extraordinary power I am afraid.

Why is it that I shrink from artistic renderings of horrors, as in film or books, but at the same time I feel that in reality I would have little difficulty in living through them?

I know I have asked this question before; but why is that I might cry at a sentimental commercial but not at the side of an accident victim or a homeless woman?

mek