Set in the late ‘90s, Torpor tells the story of a young man searching for his father – and coming to terms with his own identity in the process.
On the 20th anniversary since I finished the book, I opened and read a few pages and once again was hooked. Here’s to you, Peter – muse who kept me sleepless so many nights and taught me how rich the process can be when you surrender completely.
Someday I want to go back to San Felipe de Jesus and find the Jesus in that place. Someday I want to trap myself in those washboard towns, Aconchi, Magdalena; I want to meet their saints someday. I would ask them if they have ever been in love.
I don’t mean the syrup they lay on you in the media. I mean the meat of love, the hardness of it, the ice water that wakes you up into the heat of day. The Mexico of love, with rocks, pickup trucks, fat men and sugary children. Cock-sure, moonlit tequila, sweet lime, metallic bed for secret touching. Did they ever reach that side of life? Those mealy saints with their crosses on their backs, did they have enough stomach for the midnight lunch of love?