No pure love

I am half way through In the Garden of Beasts by Erik Larson. The book was set in the time of Hitler as viewed by an American ambassador’s daughter.

She seemed to have a grand time: dating all sorts of men , even of at opposite end of the political spectrum; shifting and evaluating them with a fine-tooth comb. What makes this book interesting is that while Evil was reincarnated in grandest scale , we follow this “naive” and novel socialite in her insulated circle. Will there be Love? Lust? or Liberty?

I can’t wait to find out the rest.

But then, like any work of fiction, we project ourselves onto it.

Will my life end on a high note? or simply fizzle out? Will I be stopped at One-Stop center in America. To learn how write a resume, to wear a tie, to shake hand, and pretend to exude confidence.

When Martha, our central character, met briefly with Hitler, she found him neither charming nor charismatic.

Yet as we now know, he personified Evil numero Uno in modern history.

Pure race vs chosen race. Let the game begin.

I am not sure who is chosen by whom.

I just know that besides those suitable criteria i.e. age, appearance and aptitude, female species negotiate within themselves to find suitors  before the age of 30. In Martha’s case, the married Russian KGB man was picked despite his previous marriage and hers as well.

I must conclude: there is no pure love, just as Hitler and Asia cohorts found out the hard way about pure race.

Sorry to bust the bubble.

Sorry to face this cold hard fact.

Sorry to lower the curtain on Romeo and Juliet.

People compromise standards previously set for themselves when a certain deadline occurs. Then, they hang “Sold” signs.

In a social auction, the deadline dictates who the highest bidder is at closing time.

Once on the hook, we got the salesman’s treat (to yesterday’s prospect): too bad, today you are our customer. Go see Customer Service.

Yet we still hum those tunes, of love and purity, of sacrifice to the highest ideal.

We long for yesterday (selective past) and better tomorrow (dream on).

People hurting people, which triggered a chain of downward spirals.

Those who try hard to Pay Forward, to build up a reserve of good will, often find themselves cheated.

They look foolish, defeated and rejected.

The heart is the last place we can see and understand.

In the Garden of Beasts, we find our Martha in tow within her circle of SS men, Russian men and US men. Will this beauty find pure love in the Garden of Beasts, whose propaganda extolled pure race?

Will we? Or should I give up and look no longer to the blue sky.

P.S. Martha ended up with a wealthy American widower with a liberal bent.

A synthesis between Boris and her Dad’s Privilege club. But then, they end up living in exile, on the run, in an European country she found estranged.  The End.


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