Steve_Bamlett_blog

In a society where, as Guy Crashnitz in Gary Indiana’s Rent Boy (the crooked medic who sells stolen internal human body organs for a nice fortune) says ‘the global criminals, the ones gouging out billions here there and everywhere, not only never go to jail but in fact run the government from behind the scenes, finance elections, buy senators and congressmen, their companies poison the air everybody has to breathe and the water everybody has to drink, and the only purpose of this gang is to perpetuate itself and its ownership of everything’, then being reminded as Danny is in ‘forty-seven ways that you’re only a penis for sale’ is really a means of beginning to learn commodity capitalism and the rule of power over human desire and the attainment of self-worth.[1]

I started writing this to help me also write a piece of work that I wanted to be a short-story or novella, on the theme of being ‘made to feel like a “rent boy”’, with a preliminary title based on the very last words of Indiana’s novel: Where Nothing has a name, and the Rest is Silence (a trifle long perhaps – I’ll see) but this story will never come to fruition. This blog should be read together with one on Gary Indiana’s exquisite work To Whom It May Concern (2011). That blog can be accessed at this link. To Whom It May Concern has a text by Gary Indiana accompanying artwork by Louise Bourgeois, who understood and loved Gary’s hard-won ethical view of a society. I think Indiana believed that an ethical system is the more needed in societies that pretend to have ‘values’ but, in truth, distort every set of values it purports to uphold to favour the rule of a political, social and psychosexual system favouring the already entitled of the status quo. In fact ironically Guy Crashnitz, a crooked medical consultant who sells stolen internal human body organs for a nice fortune, uses his analysis of his ‘work’ in order to say that ‘conscience’ is an outdated idea, ‘unless we revert  to infantile and self-defeating forms of hypocrisy’.

In the speech that ends thus, Guy is quite direct about why he considers morality unnecessary and contradictory, for though it and penal systems related to it, are applied rigidly to the unentitled, and discriminated against, in society, they are not to those who hold power currently and who spend energy maintaining that power:

the global criminals, the ones gouging out billions here there and everywhere, not only never go to jail but in fact run the government from behind the scenes, finance elections, buy senators and congressmen, their companies poison the air everybody has to breathe and the water everybody has to drink, and the only purpose of this gang is to perpetuate itself and its ownership of everything’.

When he says that, Guy has already insisted that the ‘so-called values of the society are imposed by an elite that doesn’t observe them on a mass population …’. ^[2] But Guy DOES NOT speak for Gary Indiana, although he impresses Danny, the narrator of Rent Boy, an educated young man attempting to become an architect by buying an education, as he must, from, among less well remunerated tasks as a waiter in bars where pick-ups also occur, having a clientele to whom he sells what they believe to be the content of their desires, but for which they have contempt. When Danny sees Guy Crashnitz in his own home, he is the perfect bearer of these attitudes: ‘Crashnitz looks into my eyes, I look into his eyes, I don’t know what I am seeing there/ Desire? Contempt?’[3] The problem lies entirely in this mutual gaze, where neither can be sure of what the other sees in them, and whether, by extension, either one of them has the power to force the other to introject the image of them they themselves project outwardly. This is a structure psychodynamic thinkers like Melanie Klein call ‘projective identification’ and it works precisely because we see ourselves in the eyes of others in ways we sometimes think tell truths about us. It is the most problematic of Kleinian concepts for though a two-way process, interpreting its levers is contentious.

Cuban rent-boys. Source: https://www.gabitos.com/Cuba_Eterna/template.php?nm=1521476715

Nevertheless Danny is constantly trying to assess how the categories of self-description into which he fits in the eyes of those to whom he sells himself (or bits of himself – for at some ,level he recognises that he is just ‘a penis for sale’), or those who also sell themselves or their ‘bits’. As I put it in my title, Danny knows that his customers (or ‘tricks’ as he refers to them here) will forever verbally remind him in at least ‘forty-seven ways that you’re only a penis for sale’. For him, this projected attitude can be liberatory for it becomes a means of beginning to learn how commodity capitalism and the rule of power over human desire at its base can over-rule any purely intrapsychological attainment of self-respect or self-worth. But for those ‘tricks’, the contempt they have for him and attempt to project into him is ‘mainly because they feel guilty about the whole situation. Like it’s a big comment on how pathetic they are that they have to pay to get laid’.^[4] It is a perfect analysis of how the ‘trick’ projects his own self-contempt into the rent boy because they are the stimulus of their fantasies (or phantasies if we want to continue Kleinian) of desire.

In one of the venues where tricks are played, the one Danny calls ‘Rounds’, sex, age and status are all bound up in exchanges of projected identity between men who worry that they are too old for those young men who are also the rent boys. Danny isn’t consciously projecting this onto these ‘old polite dunks’ in Rounds for he says that ‘Age does not bother me’, though he is thinking primarily of the age of the customers not himself. Age is clearly an issue though in the novel for this particular ‘rent boy’, who has potential assets his peers do not have (especially the luckless Chip as we shall see); at least at this point in the story, wherein his youth is just that part of his life he is selling to older men to fund training for an architect’s job in his own older future. Yet like the other boys the insecurities of the punters about their social status if not their age does ‘bother him’ and the other boys and gets projected into them:

What bothers me is that Rounds has all kinds of strange pretensions about it and even the rent boys have to put on an act, like, “I’m not just a hustler, I’m a screenwriter,” “I’m not just a hustler, I also work for so and so designer as a model, or you have to pretend you have all these famous friends, live at a great address, whatever. Fuck, man, nobody is “just a hustler.”[5]

But whether Danny truly believes that neither he nor other boys aren’t often put in the position of such reduced identity is never something he has clear ideas about. And this uncertainty about on’e status as person or category, such as ‘rent boy’, is played out in his complicated relationship with Chip. By the end of the novel, Chip is described, when we finally see him after the work done on his by Guy Crashnitz’s employees, as if he were like Orpheus ‘torn apart’, if not on this occasion by the Bacchae.

Silver kantharos showing the death of Orpheus (ca. 420–410 BCE). VASSIL BOJKOV COLLECTION CC BY-SA 4.0 from https://mythopedia.com/topics/orpheus

As Danny says, ‘you look at the body of someone you loved all torn apart that way, and it’s maybe even worse if they’d become, like, an object of pity before reaching that state’. Chip may be someone loved but he is vulnerable to the gaze of others who either pity him or want parts of his body so much they metaphorically or really tear them out physically. And Danny must shudder somewhat, though that is not conveyed when he describes Chip and before he further dissects the body to remove its traces of ever being, as looking ‘like a pile of garbage with a pretty face’. ^[6]

The inability to assess whether or how Danny expresses love is further complicated by the fact that he has sex with Chip as if they were conventionally wed just as Chip, Mavis and Guy expect him to. Following their mock marriage, to the strains of Mavis playing music by Erik Satie, in the vicinity of a Giacometti sculptural figure, also arranged by Guy and his female nurse partner, Mavis, Chip, dressed in bridal costume, presses ‘his boner against mine’.[7] Unsurprisingly though later, Danny will profess the complicated love for Chip we have already looked at above, and when the corpse of Chip, gutted of its organs by Guy, is dismembered, he keeps Chip’s ‘prick for a souvenir’.[8]

In brief, the complicated relationship of desire and projection characterises Danny’s relationship with Chip, who had, when the novel’s story starts, already become some kind of alter-ego for him when Chip mentors Danny, and becomes his model of success, as a ‘rent boy’. The elements that they share and mutually project and introject are Chip’s easily analysed sexual self-aggrandisement, especially of his penis size (for ‘an inch’ (more in size he means in context) ‘can be a pretty big thing in this business’). But it also includes Chip’s ‘money-cravings’, and an underlying desire to escape prostitution for something more cushioned and protective, which deep down are Danny’s desires and cravings too.^[9]  Even more is this the case when we consider how both keep employing daddy-son relationships with each other and their respective ‘tricks’ – but most dangerously with the Daddy of them all, Guy Crashnitz. When we first see Guy it is by introduction of that guy to Danny and us as readers ‘all sincere-like’: ‘That guy is my ticket out of here’. Chip sees Guy as an alternative to his relationship with Danny because Danny ‘never took care of’ him, whilst Guy doesn’t even seem to demand sex of Chip, instead: ‘He feels kind of fatherly and protective towards me’.[10]

Patriarchy may seem to offer care to its dependents, whether Chip or Danny, but it is at the cost of assuming total control over the character and opportunities of those dependents by the assertion of the raw power of money, status and authoritative performance using properties that symbolise his hold on phallic power, by its head: ‘I have never seen a man who seemed more in control of himself and the universe than Guy Crashnitz with his spidery fingers crawling around the head of his cane’. ^[11]  The men at Rounds try to ‘look real prosperous and in control’ but fail because there is nought behind this appearance.[12] Of course, at the very moment we see Guy thus, we also sense the resistance Danny feels towards him from a symbolic narrative that appears here for the second time: the decapitation – taking the head away – of Holofernes by Judith (the murder of an oppressive patriarch by a rebel Jewish woman considered powerless), which is cast in coloured light upon the scene from ‘a stained glass window and based on some Pre-Raphaelite model.[13] In fact this symbol came up earlier but was harder to read in that place. When Danny first sees it, on his first visit to Guy’s home where he ‘couldn’t quite make it out because there was no light coming through it’.[14] It is only at the ‘wedding’ to Chip that the cast light of this figure from the window mixes in with the Giacometti figure, the cocaine cake full of razor-blades and the music (at this point Edith Piaf’s “Non, Je Regrette Rien”) that we see the story of the bloody beheading, commonly read as a castration myth, of Holofernes by Judith mixed into the whole effect to increase its ambivalence to Danny and to us. But it is a devilishly difficult passage to visualise. The bride (Chip of course):

… floats along the carpet to the center of the salon and hovers right next to Giacometti, lifting her arms above her head, swinging the bouquet and filling the room with the smell of jasmine. The music’s crashing around us, at first I stood there like an idiot staring and finally I moved toward her, how can I put it, we were all together in the room, with the candles flickering, and Judith holding the bloody head by a tangle of auburn curls, and …

I found it very difficult to source Victorian Pre-Raphaelite stained-glass from) the usual internet sources that fits the picture, though the image on your right here looks Victorian (it was not labelled). What I show preceding it are versions of the scene by Mantegna and Botticelli, who are strictly speaking Pre-Raphael if not Pre-Raphaelite.

The perceptual overload conveyed in this prose is also overloading with association, which blends the image of cultural power of Guy’s home with the projection of the rightful resistance the rent-boys ought to be putting up to him, for he is their Holofernes as Bobby Larkin as already warned both Danny and Chip. Chip will be the one emasculated – his Judith being, paradoxically, Danny who keeps his ‘prick as a souvenir’ as we have seen. It is a scene this rich in potential (as well as projected light and shade) about the way in which images of power, sex and status merge and read with many contradictions, even if we are capable of reading them, as Chip is not to his major disadvantage. By the end of the novel, Danny will turn against Guy Crashnitz and escape his influence (by flight to South America under a new name – which never was Danny) but only at the cost of a secure place, if such exists, in the capitalist state of the USA. And I think here we need to look even more closely at paternal models of sex between older powerful and younger disempowered men, of which Crashnitz’s relation to Chip or Danny is only an extreme example. Mavis inveigles Danny into Guy’s spider web, as no doubt Chip too, by praising his virility within a sexual encounter with him she hastily sets up: “that’s a big prick, that’s a powerful prick …”.[15]

However, as I have suggested before, at least at first, Danny has potential for an autonomous  future that other rent boys in the novel don’t, with his course at the high-status Rutgers university paid for by his trick book of customers.

He spends mental time in the mist of sex, or some prelude thereto, actually preparing for his architecture course reflecting on his lectures past and those about to come. Sometimes these stories told in his head find connection between the vulnerability of rent-boy life and the escape wealthy and powerful clients give. For instance, as client, Quentin, starts ‘talking about his Life’ (note the capital), and then when he then ‘sucked my cock’ Danny fills his head with pictures of the Dome of Hagia Sophia in Istanbul.[16] This already shows a man escaping rent-boy status by association with examples of the finest in global architecture, his subject. But he thinks again of it as he silently embraces Chip whilst listening to a rowing heterosexual couple in the next flat shout at each other. Here he thinks of Hagia Sophia’s origin as a holy gift to a Queen-empress who was, he convinces himself was once a prostitute, since she was an actor and all actors were also prostitutes: The Emperor Justinian’s wife, Theodora.

So this temple built for a prostitute is one of the miracles of architecture in the world, covering 81, 375 square feet, the largest Christian Church ever constructed’.[17]

He does not drop out of his Rutgers course until he must flee Guy and Mavis’s influence.[18] If architecture can no longer be Danny’s ticket out of the life-games necessary to rent-boy existence, we could conclude that he, like Chip, is set adrift socially and financially. But I think not, for the intelligence of this novel is a blend of his own educated fancies and a correspondent, known only as J, to whom the letters which are the basis and material of his story are sent (which the narrative of the novel is a series thereof with periodical posting off a the letter next in the series). Sometimes Danny addresses himself directly to J and it is clear that they have a sexual relationship, thought whether one paid for by J is unknown. Danny worries regarding J that it is ‘hard to read you’, even when assessing whether or not he is genuinely enjoying Danny’s attention to his ‘delicious asshole’. Of course J’s letters in reply are even more difficult for us as secondary readers to ‘read’ (quite literally) for we never see them.

We know from what Danny alone says in summary of letters he has received, but don’t know exactly how and why, that J is seeking solitude and security and that his life is presented to Danny as ‘this disaster area nobody would want to enter’; at least until J smokes a ‘joint’ when ‘you’re like this hot person’.[19] The relationship to J sounds so like Indiana’s relationships to Cuban rent-boys or pingueros that he describes in his memoir. These boys, who once were excited by the forbidden sex they got into, are now, Indiana says, involved in a ‘cold, private enterprise for the sons and younger brothers of vanished sweethearts. They prefer Nike trainers to affection’.[20] I sense the same ambivalence in J to Danny and it is an ambivalence Danny responds to, for in some ways J is, like Guy for Chip, a potential ticket out.

Danny is clearly more vulnerable that the image he presents of himself. He may have more power in the end than Chip, but even successful performers in his business are vulnerable like porn star, Matt Hartman, who ‘kept going soft’ on stage.[21] Likewise with Xavier, who is ‘really insecure about his sexual equipment since that is his living: ‘You think I look good? Sexy? Is my cock big enough?’.[22] Hence Danny has too to stretch things for J; test his sticking power. He shares with J not only Chip’s hatred of his inadequate biological father but of his own who ‘turned into a monster every weekend with the booze’.[23] He shares with J his doubts about Chip, whilst telling him he is doing quite well in his architecture ‘grade-wise’. In the end he can’t trust Chip because ‘he’s a hustler’, but of course so is Danny and J knows that.[24] By the end of the book, we can be fairly certain that J has failed to provide any security or future for him. He still uses words that prostrate himself to J: ‘But what I mainly want to say is, you can laugh, but I love you’. Does J laugh? We never know, although we know that this is a kind of last-chance attempt Danny makes to try to get J back:

I never had the guts or wherewithal to tell you all the times I was fucking you and when you said you couldn’t see me anymore I thought maybe you glommed how I felt and that was why you put an end to it. You even stopped answering my letters even though it was your idea.[25]

But at the end of this letter, one clearly without genuine hope of a response, comes new information about J’s role in relation to him. He says:

I don’t delude myself that the letters mean anything more to you than material for some book, but I wrote them so you would know completely what my life is, for what, maybe I want your pity and maybe I want your pity to magically turn into love, what the fuck do I know about it, or about you, as far as that goes. …[26]

And the passage from the letter then deteriorates into special pleading which makes it increasingly clear what an unknown quantity J is in Danny’s life, and how dependent Danny is if he is to achieve being made into something significant and solid – a literary character – which he isn’t always sure he could ever be. It is, as if the character in the novel was paying hopeful or hopeless attention to the man who writes him into what he is – narrative and scripted dialogue – in order to plead with him to make him a character of consequence and not a disposable ‘Chip’, so to speak. Characters thus written, unable to perform on anything or anyone any more, have already included Matt Hartmann (based I think on Johnny Raw as described in Indiana;s memoir), luckless Xavier, and the finally dismembered Chip. For writing is a theme of this book as others of Indiana’s I have yet read (consider Resentment but I need to read more of him for he is a late discovery to me).

A minor character like Sandy Miller matters in this book, because she is a WRITER and ‘cultivates a lot of these guys’ who like to feel they are ‘shinnying up the ladder’ as a result, but Sandy never takes up waiter Danny, though she calls him by the name he uses in the Emerson Club he works in, Mark.[27] Instead she goes for the ‘dreary people’ she has ‘in tow’. Sandy is nothing more, he concludes at this point, than ‘her cunt’, which in her novels ‘floats around all on its own from century to century, country to county, sucking up penises in its travels’.[28] But in this domain, his penis remains un-sucked up, unless J comes through as his writer. By near the end of the story though, Danny says of his Gothic experiences in the house of Crashnitz that: ‘Sandy’s writing makes a lot more sense to me. I mean I feel a character in a Sandy Miller novel most of the time lately’.[29]

Saying this to a writer who may (and perhaps has – in a novel called Rent Boy by Gary Indiana) wanted, Danny thinks, to use his letters as ‘material’ for a novel is a strong strategy. Is Danny here rowing back on his earlier contempt for Sandy (then shared with J presumably) because J has not come through as his saviour as, at least, Sandy Miller does with her chosen models. Within four pages, Danny is accusing J of plagiarising his life, as I cited earlier. But at the end of the novel, he addresses J directly accusing him of (perhaps) confining him to a nameless state of silence that is the lot of those too insignificant to write about: ‘Incidentally, J., Danny isn’t my real name, either. I don’t have a real name. I live where nothing has a name, and the rest is silence’.[30]

Where is this place that Danny is confined to – where anonymity is not just the fate of unsung rent boys but the entire unsung world of rent boys themselves. For this novel has it both ways. It makes the rent boy central to the modern consciousness for the purpose of both satire and to shift the focus of the novel away from the high social-status hero or heroine.

Finally, then, we can say how and why a ‘rent boy’ should be so culturally central. It is because, I believe, the rent boy is in a position to expose the terrorist nature of the patriarchal capitalist state. Guy and Mavis both pretend to be superior to the morality of the modern USA and its cultural production in particular, whilst abusing every moral value that the society they condemn (as we saw in my opening) also does – selling organs from bodies they therefore claim to own as capitalism claims everything in principle can be privately owned and sold off, using the labour alienated from people who do not see the fruits of their labour in the process. The gutted Chip is an important symbol of this. Danny does not just doubt Guy but Mavis too and ‘can’t buy Mavis’ crap about doing this shit for the good of humanity’, sharing out surplus organs as it were.[31] Neither Danny nor Chip are what they both call (but Chip first) ‘Theoretical Queers’, who dominate queer bars ‘as if they invented sexual desire, and you can tell from listening they don’t know jack shit about any of it’.[32] But their physical knowledge of the way sex is constructed between desire and contempt because there is a ‘penis for sale’ makes them both moral foci of this novel, unlike the pretentious theoretical queer (I feel called out! LOL).[33]

Morality seeps from Danny that is genuine. The issues in relation to the sale of body parts are raised even by Danny’s knowledge of the case for vegetarianism which strikes back to the same roots of respect for LIFE and distaste for its commodification. Danny knows, and says so that ‘eating meat’ is akin to hypocrisy in those who stop their moral scope at ‘killing people’ and not sentient animals.[34] The best example comes up very early in the novel when Danny considers the obscene harvesting of huge and noble Galapagos Turtles for their fingernails:

Fingernails intact and very much alive

…, Galapagos Turtles being slaughtered for some charm they make out of its for their fingernails in long Beach, California, for example. You know: “The fingernails could be harvested without killing this endangered species, but those whose livelihoods depend on wiping out the noble tortoise say  this time-consuming process would cripple the industry.”[35]

Lots of points of this kind keep on emerging as a network of ethical discourse in this novel about the greed and waste of life endemic to the ‘principles’ of capitalist production, consumption and commodification. Its second epigram as a novel is Werner Schroeter’s “Life is very precious, even right now”.[36] A queer German filmmaker known mainly, except amongst those who know filmic art well, as an influence on Rainier Werner Fassbinder, born in Nazi Germany provides the ethical motto here. For Danny is a humanist and one who can write (or has been written by J, mediated by that wonderful stylist, Gary Indiana’). There is a passage of astonishing beauty and ethical rightness that stands against bondage and wreckage for lives worth living that aren’t lived in a wasteland worse than that imagined by T.S. Eliot. Here it is, to end, describing the cocktail lounge of the rich at the Ramada’s, with its:

… lighting and emotions collecting in front of you in the little puddles formed by your cocktail glass, islands and continents of feelings you don’t know how to place any more. And voices, the so-called human element, that remind you you’re chained to the earth by a million little details: the world has fancy intellectual names for all these manacles and torture devices holding you down, but they might as be … just a client whose loneliness and despair jut out on his face in the seconds before he comes: to me they were faces scribbled in watercolor drooling down the window, drizzling into Eighth Avenue and puddling up with all the human wreckage stashed in waterlogged corners of construction scaffolds.[37]

There is a beautiful rhetorical prose poetry here that works through images of wasted fluids puddling that is the stuff of human life destroyed by construction scaffolds. But scaffolding that props up despair and human solitude can be deconstructed, can’t it. And that is a moral task. Whatever, you think of ‘rent boys’, they are a commodified resource that can and will have awareness one day of the conditions of their production and consumption.

I was attracted to this novel by a desire to write one myself. It would tell two stories loosely based on events in my life. One meeting a seventeen-year-old boy, when I was 19, who left institutional child-care without support and for whom the only chance of housing came from being pimped in Soho. I respected that young man for his conversation but he was also fabulously attractive. He knew I liked him but warned me that he was only ‘for sale’ but that he ‘took credit cards’. I hadn’t been pursuing this hint but it went to my heart and stuck with it so much that as a social work tutor much later in my life I supervised two excellent dissertations by third-year undergraduates, both women, on male prostitution on leaving the child-care of local authorities. The range of points they made raised my awareness that this group of young men could be an empowered and conscious group challenging the status-quo because aware of the hypocrisies which produced the life issues they addressed with prostitution.

From the cover picture of Gary Indiana’s memoir.

The second story was based on a man in his fifties who told me I made him feel like a ‘rent-boy’. He did that when he abandoned me and my husband who loved him too (but indeed we also accepted his sexual willingness) and despaired on his descent into alcoholism that impoverished him. It wouldn’t be him in the story any more than the first story would produce a character like that on I met in the 1980s. I abandoned this project because I found it still painful to think about the injustices involved and my complicity in them in both cases, even if only because I mishandled things as perhaps we all do somewhat. It was also because, let’s face it, I just didn’t have the talent to do it justice and allow the issue to emerge with, as Gary Indiana achieves, a strong belief in the significance of a character in ethical and philosophical terms of a human being who is nevertheless a rent-boy.

At one point in Rent Boy, Mavis says of Guy Crashnitz that he and other surgeons ‘get into internal medicine’ because ‘they get off on opening people up,.., it’s what they enjoy’. Danny says as he narrates on after this that he is ‘a little squeamish as far as the insides of other human beings are concerned, and I’m like really squeamish about my own insides’.[38] But this applies not only to surgeons but even more so to novelists proper, who must always be capable of enjoying ‘opening up’ the insides of other people; but who can can only succeed thus if they can ‘open up’ their own insides too to the view of a READER, and in a little less material way than which Chip is helped to do when he is ‘gutted’.

All the very best and with love,

Steven

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[1] Gary Indiana (2022: 91f. & 30 respectively) Rent Boy Brooklyn, McNally Editions (first published 1994 by High Risk Books, Serpent’s Tail, New York).

[2] Gary Indiana (2022: 90 – 92) Rent Boy Brooklyn, McNally Editions.

[3] Ibid: 53

[4] ibid:30f

[5] Ibid: 40

[6] ibid

[7] Ibid: 87

[8] Ibid: 112

[9] Ibid:31

[10] Ibid: 44f.

[11] Ibid: 85.

[12] Ibid: 39

[13] Ibid: 85f.

[14] Ibid; 51

[15] Mavis in ibid: 56

[16] Ibid: 11

[17] Ibid: 35, but see lead up from page 33.

[18] Ibid: 89

[19] ibid: 16f.

[20] See Gary Indiana (2015: 74f.) I Can Give You Anything But Love New York, Rizzoli Ex Libris.

[21] Gary Indiana (2022) op. cit: 7f, 24.

[22] Ibid: 20f.

[23] Ibid: 26

[24] Ibid: 30

[25] Ibid: 89

[26] Ibid: 89f.

[27] Ibid: 3f.

[28] Ibid: 19 (see 18f.)

[29] Ibid: 85

[30] Ibid: 112

[31] ibid; 64

[32] Ibid: 25

[33] Ibid: 30ff.

[34] Ibid: 25

[35] Ibid: 14

[36] Epigram page

[37] Ibid: 99

[38] Ibid: 58