Read Online I Am a Japanese Writer by Dany Laferrière - Free Book Online

her, there are those made beautiful by evil—like Lucretia Borgia, who tormented my teenage years. Evil is a strong spice. Hollywood has taught us that truly evil women are those who thirst after power. But first, they must be beautiful—like Fumi. Black hair, eyes like pools, full lips. Fumi doesn’t waste any energy. She will seduce only to get closer to the throne. Otherwise, she uses her mind. Unfortunately, the other girls do the opposite: they wear their ability to seduce down to the nub and keep their intelligence under wraps. The machine grows rusty, and they lose their resources at the very moment they need them most. Fumi is the most careful of them, as hard-working as an ant. Cinema, once again, has shown us the evil heroine’s detailed preparations for the big seduction scene. She unties her hair and it falls freely down her back. A flowing river. Her makeup is subtle; the evil heroine knows just what to do. She appears to pay no attention to her intimate apparel or to the shades of color she applies to her skin, but, in fact, she knows every perfume and every jewel on the market, the poetry of fabrics and the temperature of colors. She dresses elegantly, but without ostentation. The final touch is the makeup she applies to her soul. She becomes resplendent with goodness, and we pray it will be real. No man ever rejects her. A solution from above (the arrival of the angel of purity) always appears at the last minute to save the married man or the virtuous wife. No one ever points out that the femme fatale was already holding her conquest in her arms, and that he or she was already elsewhere, on the island of temptation. The ugly woman whom power tolerates at its side is quite different from this heroine. She plays the same role as the court jester. Sleepless Hideko, wandering down the hallway, comes upon Tomo in her room. The door is half-open because of the heat. Tomo doesn’t know she’s there. Hideko watches her reading Mishima— The Temple of the Golden Pavilion. The strange story of a young counterfeit monk who finds himself in the presence of the Golden Pavilion, a marvel of balance and grace. The young monk refuses to share the universe with the Golden Pavilion, and decides to burn it to the ground. Hideko knows the story; it was her mother’s favorite book. Then this strange event occurs: Hideko falls suddenly in love with Tomo. Hideko retreats to her room, clutching her belly. She lies down on the floor and waits for sleep that does not come that night. What’s happening to me? And why me? Did it all start with my mother falling in love with a Mishima novel? Hideko scolds herself: no matter what, she must hide this weakness. Fumi, the black terror, must never know. She must be silenced before she can speak. And don’t imagine that an event like this could escape Fumi’s piercing eyes.
    That’s when Hideko swore she would discover Fumi’s secret. If ever Fumi were to unmask her—and she would not hesitate to expose her, Hideko, naked, in plain sight of all—she would reveal Fumi’s secret as she fell. It would be her final act of revenge. But how could she hide her disarray? By replacing the monstrous feelings she had for Tomo with a more normal, acceptable emotion. She concentrated all her attention on Midori. No one would suspect she preferred Tomo to Midori. No one but Takashi. Takashi, a pervert who loved only what was ugly, monstrous, dirty and disgusting—Takashi would have chosen the young monk over the Golden Pavilion. Once, he compared himself to an ashtray. Why not a garbage can, which seems dirtier? You can find anything in a garbage can, even good things, but you can do nothing with ashes. They are the end of matter. Takashi discovered Hideko’s secret one evening when he was smoking on the balcony and the girls were going out clubbing. They were getting into two taxis. He saw Hideko hide behind a tree to avoid getting in next to Midori. Midori can’t stand having Tomo too