It didn't take long for the room to feel cold.
As I looked around, it was as if the dim red sunlight had found a way to cling to the sides of the windows and never quite made it to the room. I couldn't remember what color the carpet was.
And somewhere in there, the conversation I was hearing lost its meaning.
"...Where was I?"
"Doing what you always do, until something happens."
"See...the trouble with being a psychiatrist is that no one really BELIEVES you when you say you're one."
"So? Who doesn't believe you?"
"My mother, for one. An old lady who thinks I should be near shoemaking, or cutting hair, or something."
"She is probably right. Because becoming a psychiatrist takes one away from making a living, it takes a chance when one has a family to support. And there are more people out there who need help than one can provide."
"It's not worth it. A little sheepishness, a little difficulty with the concept of being different, that's not much reason to harm one's own soul."
"That's quite an arrogant thing to say to another helping person."
"I know. But that's how I felt. And in some ways, it's true. It's like dragging an old lady out of the grave, who, because she's really your mother and you really care, who by proxy you really love, and then dumping her off someplace far from her home, from the people she loves, and then baring one's soul, and walking away. What use is there in such things?"
"That's your problem, not mine. I'm here to help you. And if something is keeping me focused, it is neither pride nor ego. I am helping others, like you."
"I know. Still--"
The doctor began his routine questions.
Then the listening, the concerned, the sage advice. And then the conversation.
.
.
Frankly, to warn you of the story in the beginning is to have cheated you of the experience of reading one of the best written and most creative works of fiction I have ever been privileged to read. This is how I felt during the story:
I was taken aback by how this would be the first time I would be reading a featured story by a featured fiction author. One of my best friends recommended the story to me, saying this author is his favorite, and I found myself reading with excitement, and not just the wonder of having begun a story that is, to my knowledge, not about this author and his work.
Overall, this is a unique and inventive story. This story of a psychiatrist is centered around the interpersonal relationship between a doctor and a patient, but it is also centered around the relationship between the doctor. What I mean to say is that it is rated mature for its thematic topics, and due to the rare sensuality featured in the love story, its level of rating is high.
The theme of loneliness frequently occurs in the story, in both the interpersonal relationship the two main characters are building and in the very first scene in the story. This theme occurs in the second scene, in the first line of dialogue.
The way the themes are addressed, however, is quite unusual. I will go past that, and say that it was quite amazing to see the mixture of genres and subcultures. I don't read m-rated fiction often because of this, but the genre of the story gave no excuse for it.
The story is, to some degree, centered around the art and work of getting the main character back into life's affairs. This was shown exceptionally well, with a real 'stream-of-consciousness' feel of the thoughts as he was writing his book, which was well supported by the author's firm grasp of the tone of voice throughout.
The prose is quite outstanding. It is dense, but whatever is stated is well described, and the viewpoints of each of the characters are clearly spelled out.
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