“Anna’s mom, the Dutch Tulip Man, Sisyphus the Hamster, I mean, just—what happens to everyone.”
Van Houten closed his eyes and puffed his cheeks as he exhaled, then looked up at the exposed wooden beams crisscrossing the ceiling.
“The hamster,” he said after a while. “The hamster gets adopted by Christine”—who was one of Anna’s presickness friends.
That made sense. Christine and Anna played with Sisyphus in a few scenes.
“He is adopted by Christine and lives for a couple years after the end of the novel and dies peacefully in his hamster sleep.”
Now we were getting somewhere. “Great,” I said. “Great. Okay, so the Dutch Tulip Man. Is he a con man? Do he and Anna’s mom get married?”
Van Houten was still staring at the ceiling beams. He took a drink. The glass was almost empty again.
“Lidewij, I can’t do it. I can’t. I can’t.” He leveled his gaze to me.
Nothing happens to the Dutch Tulip Man. He isn’t a con man or not a con man; he’s God.
He’s an obvious and unambiguous metaphorical representation of God,
and asking what becomes of him is the intellectual equivalent of asking what becomes of the disembodied eyes of Dr. T. J. Eckleburg in Gatsby.
Do he and Anna’s mom get married? We are speaking of a novel, dear child, not some historical enterprise.”
전체재생
다음페이지
문장검색