Nicholas Mosley - Hopeful Monsters

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— A sweeping, comprehensive epic, Hopeful Monsters tells the story of the love affair between Max, an English student of physics and biology, and Eleanor, a German Jewess and political radical. Together and apart, Max and Eleanor participate in the great political and intellectual movements which shape the twentieth century, taking them from Cambridge and Berlin to the Spanish Civil War, Russia, the Sahara, and finally to Los Alamos to witness the first nuclear test.
— Hopeful Monsters received Britain's prestigious Whitbread Award in 1990.
— Praising Mosley's ability to distill complex modes of thought, the New York Times called Hopeful Monsters a "virtual encyclopedia of twentieth century thought, in fictional form".

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I said 'Well it was, wasn't it?'

Bruno was in fact the first one of us to be picked up. One of the tubes by our table began to wheeze and fart: then out popped a little cylinder with a rolled-up message inside. The message said 'Zeus awaits his Ganymede at Table 27.' Trixie said 'How do you know I'm not Ganymede?' Bruno said 'Tell her, Nellie, will you.' I said 'Ganymede was a boy.' Trixie said 'As a matter of fact, I think Nellie's much the most beautiful boy here.'

Then I felt suddenly as if my insides were turning to water; splashing and churning with coloured lights and music.

Bruno said 'Now remember what I've told you: only go to the tables of English or Americans; don't leave this place without me; sit or dance with them here. I'll come back, and then we'll go to the hotel.'

Trixie said 'We'll have to get money before we go to a hotel.'

I said 'We'll tell them we've got an old grandmother who is starving.'

Bruno said 'Tell them you've got a boyfriend for whom you've got to put up bail for pimping.'

Trixie said 'Bruno, we love you, we're grateful, really.'

When Bruno had left us Trixie and I sat in our compartment and held hands. Trixie was a blonde girl with a mouth like a hot dusty cornfield. Bruno had got us a drink which was some sort of false champagne. I thought — But I did know, did I, that with Trixie there would be these coloured lights, shapes, music; this message at my throat like flashing tongues -

Trixie said 'What do you think Bruno does with his men?'

I said 'I suppose they kiss, don't they?'

Trixie said 'Can I kiss you?'

I said 'We can go to the hotel?'

Trixie and I kissed, holding hands. I suppose we had drunk quite a bit of champagne. I put my head down on her shoulder: she put her hand at the back of my neck. Sometimes our telephone rang; sometimes a little cylinder popped out of one of the holes. But the messages were mostly from German boys who just wanted to be

witty — to show off their prowess at sending bits of paper in and out of holes. One of the messages said 'Greetings to the two most perfect daisies in the chain.' Trixie wrote 'Greetings to those who sit underneath the chain.' She said 'Do you think that's witty?' I said 'Trixie, I love you.' Trixie lifted the flap at the end of one of the pipes and put the cylinder in and it was sucked into the hole. She said 'I love you too.'

There were two American couples at a table just above us: at least they looked like Americans — the women had scraped-back hair and the men were like the casings of Egyptian mummies. They had been leaning over the front of their compartment watching Trixie and me; then after a time the two women got up and left. I thought

— Well this might be all right. Our telephone rang and it was the two American men asking us to join them. Trixie had handed the telephone to me because she did not speak English. I said Tm afraid we are waiting for our friend.' Trixie said 'Are you mad?' I said into the telephone 'But we'll join you for a minute.' Trixie said 'Oh I see.' On our way to the Americans' table I said 'But we can really go to a hotel?'

The Americans were in their late twenties or early thirties; they ordered some more so-called 'champagne'. They were already quite drunk. When I looked round the auditorium I could see no sign of Bruno. The display of water and coloured lights had stopped; a dance-band had appeared at the back of the stage: people were dancing with the strange shaking movements that were fashionable at the time — as if they were being attacked by bees; as if they had not even been looking for honey. One of the Americans asked Trixie to dance. I thought — Of course I have always loved Trixie: I did not know until now about feelings like messages being sucked into holes; about putting my tongue inside her.

The American I was with said 'How old are you?'

'Seventeen.'

'You don't look seventeen.'

'No, we are not seventeen.'

The American kissed me; he was like crumbling plaster; I thought

— He is a fungus growing out of a crack in a wall.

Then — Will there be a basin in which I can wash his taste from me in the hotel room where I will be with Trixie?

When Trixie came back from the dance-floor she said 'Has yours said anything about money?'

I said 'No.'

Trixie said 'I don't think these two nose-pickers know they're supposed to give us money.'

Trixie's American said 'What does your friend say?'

I said 'She says she has a grandmother or something who is starving.'

Trixie and I began to fall about, laughing.

My American said 'Do you two girls want to go to a hotel?'

I suppose Trixie and I were quite drunk by this time. What is the feeling — that things are worth a risk? That of course nothing that one doesn't know about happens without a risk? Well it is true, isn't it. I said to my American 'Those were your wives you were with just now?' My American said 'Yes.' I said 'You want us to book into a hotel?'

Trixie's American said 'You'll say you are our wives?'

I said to Trixie 'This will be all right.'

Trixie and I and the two Americans went into the street to find a taxi. Trixie gave the driver the name of the hotel that Bruno had told us about. I said 'Is that wise?' The driver said 'You two girls shouldn't be going to that hotel.' Trixie said 'Oh we're not really going to that hotel.' The driver said 'Oh I see.' My American said 'Did I hear you say we wouldn't be going to that hotel?' I said in English 'I said that for the driver.' Trixie's American said 'Oh I see.' When we got to the hotel Trixie said 'Tell them we'll have to have quite a lot of money in order to fix the man behind the desk.' I said in English 'We'll have to have quite a lot of money to fix the man behind the desk.' My American said 'Why, if you're going to say you are our wives?' I said 'Because we're only fifteen.' Trixie and I were falling about, laughing. Trixie's American was going to sleep, he kept toppling sideways, he had to be propped up by my American. The driver said 'Well do you or don't you want to go into the hotel?' I said in English to my American 'We will have to get two double rooms for you and your wives.' Trixie said 'Are you saying that for the driver?' Trixie and I hung on to each other, laughing. My American said 'You two girls seem very fond of each other.' Trixie's American said 'Give them the money.' My American said 'Why?' The other said 'They're only fifteen.' After a time my American pulled out a roll of notes and gave to me what seemed an enormous amount of money. I said 'Thank you very much.' I kissed him. Trixie and I got out of the taxi and ran into the hotel.

The man behind the desk started saying 'You two girls can't come in here on your own.' Trixie said 'We're not, we're with

those two Americans.' The man behind the desk said 'Oh I see.' While he was turning to get the key we heard the taxi drive away, with the Americans still in it; the man behind the desk paused; I said to him 'It's all right, they've gone to get their wives.' Trixie said 'Oh I see.' We went on laughing.

I remember that hotel room: it was orange and brown; there was a pink advertisement-light outside the window. Trixie and I stood facing each other; we put our hands on each other's shoulders; it was not really like those flashing lights and music and spurting and cascading water: that was outside: this was within: this was something like a religious ceremony. Well it was the first time, wasn't it: what else is love? There are hands that shape the transformations of the body: spittle on the tongue like blood. Trixie said 'I didn't know it would be like this.' I said 'No, I didn't know it would be like this.' Trixie said 'How have we managed it?' I said 'I don't know.' I thought — So this is where you get to, where there are no words left; where there is no light but pressure as if at the bottom of the ocean.

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