I've been reading Andy Warhol's novel, the title of which is "a" - that's right, the lower-case letter a. So even before I cracked it open, I thought, oh, boy! If this novel has an owl in it, it will always be the first on my alphabetical list of books with owls in them, nothing will ever beat it! How strange to meet certainty in our troubled times. And, of course, Ondine (our protagonist) makes a joke about White Owl cigars. I almost didn't make it there. Early on, a sexual act was described - now, hold it right there! I am no prude. I say go for it! But baked beans were put to a use I don't wish to discuss. Is that where I draw the line? The jury is still out. Anyway, Megan and I had read Warhol's diaries together, and also a recent biography of Warhol (both of which had owls in them), so she threatened to read the novel as well, which I forbade. It was like when we went to the Yoko Ono exhibit and Megan kept running ahead of me and guiding me away from anything too bold and frank. Well! I don't "blog" anymore, but something has been on my mind, and it is sort of relevant to our current discussion. I had always thought of Serendipity 3 as a touristy dessert place that figured in a John Cusak movie. I didn't know it held such a special place in Warhol's life until I read the biography. So... having had a premonition of his death, Warhol goes there for what he figures will be his last treat, and right he is. But! The biographer, after describing the moment, feels it necessary to include a parenthetical screed about how Warhol's death premonition was irrational, even if it came true. Who is he trying to convince? Would he stand over a dead body and say, "Well, you saw this coming, but that was irrational"? The dead person doesn't care! That's all I want to say.
