There’s often a demented theatricality involved, like the dialogues between Henry Lee Lucas and Ottis Toole, lovers talking on the jailhouse phone, where there’s a back-and-forth — it reads like a play, like Beckett or Pinter or Chekhov: “I been meaning to ask you. That time when I cooked some of them people. Why’d I do that? / I think it was just the hands doing it... I’d have preferred you not talk about that. I don’t want people to look at us as that kind of person.”
There’s often a demented theatricality involved, like the dialogues between Henry Lee Lucas and Ottis Toole, lovers talking on the jailhouse phone, where there’s a back-and-forth — it reads like a play, like Beckett or Pinter or Chekhov: “I been meaning to ask you. That time when I cooked some of them people. Why’d I do that? / I think it was just the hands doing it... I’d have preferred you not talk about that. I don’t want people to look at us as that kind of person.”
This is a spectacular comment...
I deleted it out of general embarrassment. But thank you.
No! You shouldn't have! It was absolutely fascinating. I really meant it - it was spectacular!
Wow! Thank you. Coming from you, it's a compliment I will treasure until I die.
Bobby, your comment was great.