In the Cut by Susanna Moore
August 24th 2006 04:14
Meg Ryan has tired of her cutie-pie roles because her body has outgrown them and picked up Susanna Moore's In The Cut as the magic dress that would fit her body well. The movie quickly tanked and the audience would rather not see this not-so cute Meg banged by Mark Ruffalo. But that's beside the point.
Frannie is a divorced thirty something woman who is living alone in New York. She teaches English when she is not collecting word lists of street vernacular. She also has an ominous-looking student stalking her which she does not seem to bother her. One day in a bar she sees through a curtain of darkness, a redhead giving head to a man with a tattoo. And then the redhead turns up dead. And the man with the tattoo knocks up her door to investigate the death of the redhead. Is it the same man? She is not so sure but she sure does get knocked up by him. And the more she gets she knocked, the more suspicious she gets and the more suspicious she gets, the more her craving for getting knocked by him. This is the danger that we were promised. After all this is a dangerous erotic thriller and everything you know about desire is just dead wrong.
Frannie might be looking for dangerous thrills to frill her sex life but to a cynical mind, she invites Detective James Malloy (that's the guy with the tattoo, if you believe Frannie) repeatedly into her life because his idea of sex is to pleasure the organ, you know the only one made purely for pleasure or so we are told, and to drown in it. Some danger.
Curiously, for a novel written by a woman, Moore inflicts the same fate on her heroine which we thought was practised only by the harsher sex. And the only other notable (and curious) thing about it is how far the novel manages to objectify men.
If you are looking for the erotic or the thrilling, clearly in the cut is not the place to be.
Frannie is a divorced thirty something woman who is living alone in New York. She teaches English when she is not collecting word lists of street vernacular. She also has an ominous-looking student stalking her which she does not seem to bother her. One day in a bar she sees through a curtain of darkness, a redhead giving head to a man with a tattoo. And then the redhead turns up dead. And the man with the tattoo knocks up her door to investigate the death of the redhead. Is it the same man? She is not so sure but she sure does get knocked up by him. And the more she gets she knocked, the more suspicious she gets and the more suspicious she gets, the more her craving for getting knocked by him. This is the danger that we were promised. After all this is a dangerous erotic thriller and everything you know about desire is just dead wrong.
Frannie might be looking for dangerous thrills to frill her sex life but to a cynical mind, she invites Detective James Malloy (that's the guy with the tattoo, if you believe Frannie) repeatedly into her life because his idea of sex is to pleasure the organ, you know the only one made purely for pleasure or so we are told, and to drown in it. Some danger.
Curiously, for a novel written by a woman, Moore inflicts the same fate on her heroine which we thought was practised only by the harsher sex. And the only other notable (and curious) thing about it is how far the novel manages to objectify men.
If you are looking for the erotic or the thrilling, clearly in the cut is not the place to be.
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