Nope, he had learned about this in school, and now he was curious about the details. He actively sought out the porn to find out more. Not that he knew what it was...sauvin wrote:This wasn't a "budding interest in porn", this was Oskar picking up another boy's porn rag and wondering what the fuss was all about.
It is pretty much spelled out that when Oskar got hold of the Lektyr, he was searching for knowledge, not titillation. His mind wasn't at all stimulated by such images, which underlines the innocence/naivety of his question to Eli. I am very much in agreement that Oskar was after a friend, much more than he was after a 'girlfriend'. He could well have not wanted to appear innocent/naive in front of Eli (especially when she was lying in his bed with nothing on, of her own volition), and so phrased the question in a manner he thought she would be expecting. And there's that social conditioning again, trying to give Oskar guidelines on how to behave in every circumstance. It's a pity he is so out of his depth here, and clutching for straws he can't see ... another example of how society has failed to prepare/nurture him.drakkar wrote:Nope, he had learned about this in school, and now he was curious about the details. He actively sought out the porn to find out more. Not that he knew what it was...sauvin wrote:This wasn't a "budding interest in porn", this was Oskar picking up another boy's porn rag and wondering what the fuss was all about.
But then again I think that most kids his age doesn't quite know what to do in these kinds of events either, even though they woukd have had all the prepareness and nurture they needed. I was a muture kid, and if I was Oskar there, at his age, with someone behind me naked, I would have no freaking idea.Jameron wrote: It's a pity he is so out of his depth here, and clutching for straws he can't see ... another example of how society has failed to prepare/nurture him.
He kneeled on the rug and lifted a sofa cushion. A few tubes of glue and a roll of plastic bags, a container of lighter fluid. In the other corner of the sofa, under the seat cushion, there were porno magazines. A few well-thumbed issues of Lektyr and Fib Aktuellt.
He took one of the Lektyr and shifted closer to the door where there was more light. Still kneeling he laid the magazine out on the floor in front of him, flipped the pages. His mouth was dry. The woman in the picture lay in a deck chair wearing only a pair of high-heeled shoes. She was pushing her breasts together and pouting. Her legs were spread and in the middle of the bushy hair between her thighs there was a strip of pink flesh with a groove down the middle.
How do you get in there?
He knew the words from talk he had heard, graffiti he had read. Cunt. Hole. Labia. But it wasn't a hole. Only that groove. They had had sex education at school and he knew there was supposed to be a... tunnel leading in from the vulva. But in what direction? Straight up or in or . . . you couldn't tell.
He kept turning the pages. The readers' own stories. At the swimming pool. A stall in the girls' changing rooms. Her nipples stiffened under her bathing suit. My dick was thumping like a hammer in my swimming trunks. She gripped the clothes pegs, turned her little ass toward me, and moaned, "Take me, take me now."
Did this kind of thing go on all the time, behind closed doors, in places where you couldn't see?
He had started a new story, about a family reunion that took an unexpected turn, when he heard the basement door being opened. He shut the magazine, put it back under the sofa cushion and didn't know what to do with himself. His throat contracted; he didn't dare to breathe. Footsteps in the corridor.
A cold hand crept over his stomach and found its way to his chest, over his heart. He put both his hands over it, warming her hand. Eli's other hand worked its way under his armpit then up over his chest and in between his hands. Eli turned her head and laid her cheek between his shoulder blades.
A new smell had entered the room. The faint smell of his dad's moped when it was fully tanked. Gasoline. Oskar bent his head down and smelled her hands. Yes, the smell was coming from her hands.
They lay like that for a long time. When Oskar could tell from his mom's breathing that she had fallen asleep again, when the lump of their hands was warmed through and starting to get sweaty, he whispered:
"Where have you been?"
"Getting some food."
Her lips tickled his shoulder. She loosened her hands from his, rolled over on her back. Oskar stayed in the same position for a moment and looked into Gene Simmons' eyes. Then he turned onto his stomach. Behind her head he imagined the tiny figures in the wallpaper eyeing her with curiosity. Her eyes were wide open, blue-black in the moonlight. Oskar got goosepimples on his arms.
"What about your dad?"
"Gone."
"Gone?" Oskar couldn't help raising his voice.
"Shhh. It doesn't matter."
"But. . . what... is he-?"
"It. Doesn't. Matter."
Oskar nodded, signaling that he wasn't going to ask her any more questions, and Eli put both her hands under her head, staring up at the ceiling.
"I was feeling lonely. So I came here. Was that OK?"
"Yes. But... you don't have any clothes on."
"I'm sorry. Is that disgusting?"
"No. But aren't you freezing?"
"No, no."
The white strands in her hair were gone. Yes, she looked altogether healthier than when they met yesterday. Her cheeks were rounder, the dimples more pronounced, when Oskar joked and asked:
"You didn't happen to walk past the Lover's kiosk or anything?"
Eli laughed, then made her voice very serious and said with a ghostly voice:
"Yes, I did and you know what? He poked his head out and said: 'Coooome ... coooom ... I have candy and ... banaaaanas.
Oskar buried his face in the pillow. Eli turned her head toward his and whispered in his ear: "Cooome . . . jelly beans .. ."
Oskar shouted: "No, no!" into the pillow. They kept doing this for a while. Then Eli looked at the books in his bookcase and Oskar gave a synopsis of his favorite: The Fog by James Herbert. Eli's back glowed white like a sheet of paper in the dark as she lay there on her stomach in bed and studied the bookcase.
He held his hand so close to her skin that he could feel the warmth from it. Then he contracted his fingers and walked them down her back whispering, "Bulleribulleri bock. How many horns are sticking . . . up?"
"Mmm. Eight?"
"Eight you say and eight there are, bulleribulleribock."
Then Eli did the same to him but he was not at all as good at telling how many fingers there were as she was. On the other hand, he was much better at rock, paper, scissors. Seven to three. Then they played again. He won nine to one. Eli started to get a little irritated.
"Do you know what I am going to pick?" Yes.
"How?"
"I just know, that's all. It happens all the time. I get a picture in my head."
"One more time. I won't think this time, just choose."
"You can try."
They played again. Oskar won easily with eight-two. Eli pretended to be enraged, turned to the wall.
"I'm not playing with you. You cheat."
Oskar looked at her white back. Did he dare? Yes, now that she wasn't looking at her he could do it.
"Eli. Will you go out with me?"
She turned around, pulled the covers up to her chin.
"What does that mean?"
Oskar stared at the spines of the books in front of him, shrugged.
"That. . . you would want to be together with me."
"What do you mean 'together'?"
Her voice sounded suspicious, hard. Oskar hurriedly said: "Maybe you already have a guy at your school."
"No, I don't... but Oskar, I can't. I'm not a girl."
Oskar snorted. "What do you mean? You're a guy?"
"No, no."
"Then what are you?"
"Nothing."
"What do you mean, 'nothing'?"
"I'm nothing. Not a child. Not old. Not a boy. Not a girl. Nothing."
Oskar pulled his finger down the spine of The Rats, pinched his lips together and shook his head. "Will you go out with me or not?"
"Oskar I'd really like to but... can't we just be together like we already are?" ... yes.
"Are you sad? We can kiss, if you like."
"No!"
"You don't want to?"
"No, I don't!"
Eli frowned.
"Do you do anything in particular with someone you're going out with?"
"No."
"It's just like normal?"
"Yes."
Eli looked suddenly happy, folded her arms over her stomach, and gazed at Oskar.
"Then we can go out. We can be together."
"We can?"
"Yes."
"Good."
With a quiet happiness in his belly, Oskar kept studying the titles of the books. Eli lay still, waiting. After a while she said:
"Is there anything else?"
"No."
"Can't we lie down together again like we did before?"
Oskar rolled around so his back was against her. She put her arms around him and he took her hands. They lay like that until Oskar started to get sleepy. His eyes felt sandy; it was hard to keep them open. Before he slid off into sleep he said:
"Eli?"
"Mmm?"
"I'm glad you came over."
"Yes."
"Why... do you smell like gasoline?"
Eli's hands gripped more tightly around his hands, against his heart. Hugged. The room grew larger all around Oskar, the walls and ceiling softened, the floor fell away, and when he felt the whole bed floating in the air he knew he was asleep.
Indeed. Perhaps Lacke and Jocke serve as a good example. They hugged each other as they parted late in the evening, and later, after Jocke's disappearance, Lacke indicates he's lost everything.Boys do form close and deep bonds with one another, at least on occasion, in contexts where sex isn't even a remote possibility. I believe such bonds are much rarer than what often happens between girls. Boy with such bonds probably wouldn't say "I love you" (at least, not in the primarily Germanic US), and probably wouldn't walk down the street arm in arm or holding hands; they'd express their bonds much more indirectly.
Very well put. I agree completely.dongregg wrote:I don't believe Eli and Oskar are thinking anything in their last scene together. I think their hearts are pounding louder than the pounding on the ceiling from the apartment above. IOW, I think they are both in shock--Eli from nearly cashing in, and Oskar from seeing and being a part of a violent murder. I think the realization hits them that it is the end of the only deeply meaningful relationship they have ever had, so add grief and a sense of irretrievable loss to their feelings. Then the kiss. As I posted previously, "It never occurred to me that there might be more to it [the kiss] than this: 'I have to go away. I like you so much, and I have no words to express how much it hurts to leave you. Goodbye forever, my dear and only friend.'"
They look at the floor; they look at the ceiling. Being in shock, their bodies are doing the only "thinking" possible. Stll in shock and grief, Oskar goes home to be yelled at by his mother, whose words he doesn't even hear. He closes her out of his room and aimlessly shuts doors and hoods on his toy cars. He's thinking nothing. He's feeling everything.
I think they are both in shock
