A Genet-inflicted disease...

After Funeral Rites, I am now devouring Querelle by one of my literary heroes; Jean Genet. The imagery and languorous poetry of Genet's work is what endears him to me. Imagine barbed roses, wartime Paris, filthy prison cells, astonishingly beautiful sailors...When I think of Genet, I not only think of debauchery but of the deep, almost agonising love he felt towards his paramours.

The material I read at a certain time does tend to affect me. Genet's work is making me behave indulgently and provocatively. I remember reading numerous Burroughs novels one after the other, which resulted in me having a standoffish attitude and wearing a lot of black (to an extreme, I might add, as these traits can be seen in me at almost any given time). Beatnik phase, perhaps? What a dick. My point is that if you imbibe enough of the same author's material at once, their attitude will begin to infect you.