Sean Greer, Andrew

Less es un escritor fracasado a punto de cumplir los cincuenta. De pronto recibe por correo una invitación de boda: quien fuera su pareja durante nueve años va a casarse con otro. Evidentemente, no puede aceptar la invitación; la situación sería demasiado incómoda. Pero tampoco puede rechazarla, porque parecería una derrota. Encima de la mesa hay varias invitaciones a encuentros literarios de poca monta por todo el mundo. ¿Cómo se las arregla para estar fuera de la ciudad? Simplemente aceptándolas todas. ¿Qué podría salir mal? Así empieza la vuelta al mundo en ochenta días en la que el novelista Arthur Less viajará por México, Italia, Alemania, Marruecos, India y Japón para poner miles de kilómetros de distancia entre él y el compromiso que se niega a afrontar.

Less

Daniel Lindquist

Why did he always assume Mexico City would be like Phoenix on a smoggy day? Why did no one tell him it would be Madrid? 

There was wonderful sex, and no talk aferward of I forgot to tell you Janet called, or Did you put the parking permit on the car? or Remember, I'm going to LA tomorrow. Just sex and a smile: Isn't it wonderful to get what you want and pay no price? 

Was this how men felt? Straight men? Alone so often, but if they faltered if they lost a wedding ring! then the whole band of brothers would descend to fix the problem? Life was not hard; you shouldered it bravely, knowing all the time that if you sent the signal, help would arrive. How wonderful to be part of such a club. Half a dozen men gathered around, engaged in the task. To save his narriage and his pride. So they did have hearts, after all. They were not cold, cruel dominators; they were not high school bullies to be avoided in the halls. They were good; they were kind; they came to the rescue. And today Less was one of them. 

Mescal turns out to be a drink that tastes as if someone has put their cigarette out in it. 

Any twenty five year old who says the word refinance should be taken out and shot. Talk about love and music and poetry. Things everyone forgets they ever thought were important. Waste every day, that's what I say. 

"How did they even know I was gay?" He asked this from his front porch, wearing a kimono. 

It's a sad little cockfight they arrange because they have no talent themselves.

Zohra's voice comes loudly from her camel: "Shut the fuck up! Enjoy the fucking sunset on your fucking camels! Jesus!"

And there is his three- vear-old daughter, who runs around wearing nothing but a rhinestone necklace (who wouldn't, if they could?). 

“The key to speaking a new language,” she told them, “is to be bold instead of perfect.”

Less quotes

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