BusinessDay, By: Katy Chance: "Is there a safer place for secret desires than virtual reality?" asks the back cover; there has to be! THERE is a wonderful, old-fashioned word to describe my response to this book: I was quickened. I read Love Virtually in two sittings separated only by the necessary interruption of sleep. On waking, I reached instinctively for the book, my heart racing; like a Victorian, handwritten love letter, its pages were made chamois-soft from too much feverish handling. "Is there a safer place for secret desires than virtual reality?" asks the back cover; there has to be! For the virtual world is dangerous beyond telling, yet Daniel Glattauer has dared to tell it and created a publishing phenomenon in so doing. This novel is nothing like a novel; yes, there is a beginning and there is an ending — that is either ambiguous or absolutely certain, I still cannot tell. But between those two points is a work that perfectly encapsulates the perils of that most ubiquitous of human relationship — the one via e-mail. The "story" consists of Leo receiving an e-mail in error from Emmi. The book’s opening line is one we may all have received or sent a version of: "15 January. Subject: Cancelling my subscription. I would like to cancel my subscription. Can I do so by e-mail? Best wishes, E. Rothner"And instantly you want an answer. "Eighteen days later", Emmi sends another e-mail. Still ignored. "Thirty-three days later" she sends another. "Eight minutes later" she gets a reply, from Leo. Her e-mail has gone to the wrong address. And from such inauspicious beginnings can hearts and intellects be sent soaring, senses heightened and lives destroyed. This book is as far removed from a juvenile blogger’s attempt at writing as you can get. There are no emoticons, nothing written in lower case, no LOLs, and there is no crude e-mail sex. This is a beautifully crafted work by a writer who understands that wordplay as foreplay remains the most seductive medium for the literate classes. Yet many of us think nothing of writing a comment, in jest, to a friend or colleague that would be unthinkable face to face, and pressing send without a second thought to the consequences. In Love Virtually, though, consequences are thought of. Leo and Emmi are smart, erudite people with real lives and real jobs who have an unreal relationship. This is not something that comes as a surprise to them. They are aware of the dangers — which only add to the excitement, for the reader and them. Early in the book, Leo notes of their mutual connection: "I have a suspicion that this serious interest is nourished by my inbox alone. Any attempt to liberate it from there would no doubt fail miserably." And later: "You’re like a second voice inside me, accompanying me through the day. You’ve turned my inner monologue into a dialogue." And this from Emmi, a line that sums up the pernicious power that is the immediate, urgent but entirely artificial intimacy of e-mail: "I want you to want to kiss me again…. I don’t need real kisses. I need the man who’s so desperate to kiss me that he has to write to tell me so." The pair share late-night wine, online. They share their real worlds, online. We know all this only through their e-mails, making the reader a virtual voyeur. This book is breathtaking in its ability to seduce, and equally so in its ability to prove that well- crafted words are still the domain of the printed world. Source: BusinessDay
Wednesday, 28 December 2011
Book Review: Love Virtually
BusinessDay, By: Katy Chance: "Is there a safer place for secret desires than virtual reality?" asks the back cover; there has to be! THERE is a wonderful, old-fashioned word to describe my response to this book: I was quickened. I read Love Virtually in two sittings separated only by the necessary interruption of sleep. On waking, I reached instinctively for the book, my heart racing; like a Victorian, handwritten love letter, its pages were made chamois-soft from too much feverish handling. "Is there a safer place for secret desires than virtual reality?" asks the back cover; there has to be! For the virtual world is dangerous beyond telling, yet Daniel Glattauer has dared to tell it and created a publishing phenomenon in so doing. This novel is nothing like a novel; yes, there is a beginning and there is an ending — that is either ambiguous or absolutely certain, I still cannot tell. But between those two points is a work that perfectly encapsulates the perils of that most ubiquitous of human relationship — the one via e-mail. The "story" consists of Leo receiving an e-mail in error from Emmi. The book’s opening line is one we may all have received or sent a version of: "15 January. Subject: Cancelling my subscription. I would like to cancel my subscription. Can I do so by e-mail? Best wishes, E. Rothner"And instantly you want an answer. "Eighteen days later", Emmi sends another e-mail. Still ignored. "Thirty-three days later" she sends another. "Eight minutes later" she gets a reply, from Leo. Her e-mail has gone to the wrong address. And from such inauspicious beginnings can hearts and intellects be sent soaring, senses heightened and lives destroyed. This book is as far removed from a juvenile blogger’s attempt at writing as you can get. There are no emoticons, nothing written in lower case, no LOLs, and there is no crude e-mail sex. This is a beautifully crafted work by a writer who understands that wordplay as foreplay remains the most seductive medium for the literate classes. Yet many of us think nothing of writing a comment, in jest, to a friend or colleague that would be unthinkable face to face, and pressing send without a second thought to the consequences. In Love Virtually, though, consequences are thought of. Leo and Emmi are smart, erudite people with real lives and real jobs who have an unreal relationship. This is not something that comes as a surprise to them. They are aware of the dangers — which only add to the excitement, for the reader and them. Early in the book, Leo notes of their mutual connection: "I have a suspicion that this serious interest is nourished by my inbox alone. Any attempt to liberate it from there would no doubt fail miserably." And later: "You’re like a second voice inside me, accompanying me through the day. You’ve turned my inner monologue into a dialogue." And this from Emmi, a line that sums up the pernicious power that is the immediate, urgent but entirely artificial intimacy of e-mail: "I want you to want to kiss me again…. I don’t need real kisses. I need the man who’s so desperate to kiss me that he has to write to tell me so." The pair share late-night wine, online. They share their real worlds, online. We know all this only through their e-mails, making the reader a virtual voyeur. This book is breathtaking in its ability to seduce, and equally so in its ability to prove that well- crafted words are still the domain of the printed world. Source: BusinessDay