Book- A handbook for my lover

Without revealing names and wearing the identities of photographer and a young writer by day and lovers by night, the lover's tale is narrated by a monologue describing the intimacy, vulnerability and the moments that revel in an unconventional relationship. 

It's an erotic memoir where the story begins with an eye for detail delving the tension between two lovers and explores how the writer falls in love with an old photographer, begans a journey with him, recounting her past tales and her current journey. Often she wonder how he seemed to end as a ten line poem in grand anthology of lovers but is more than that. 

The writing is so lucid that I felt I'm reading a book of poetry. With a lot of references and quotes, this books seemed worth pondering on writing, memory and love making.

 I loved these couple of  lines here and there- "The economy of Tears. I have never faked a tear. Not for me the edifice of pretence." "Three minutes long. The length of a song." "We are all that we have lost. We are all that we are yet to lose." 

There are also a lot of references on writing. 

The author refers to Anais Nin's diaries mentioning about writing. 

"The writer is the duelist who never fights at the stated hour, who gathers up an insult, like another curious object, a collector's item, spreads it out on his desk later, and then, engages in a duel with it verbally. Some people call it weakness. I call it postponement. What is weakness in the man becomes a quality of the writer.For he preserves, collects what will explode later in his work.That's why the writer is the loneliest man in the world, because he lives, fights, dies, is reborn always alone, all his roles are played behind a curtain. He is an incongruous figure."

Henry Miller's text on the act of writing- 

"After all, most writing is done away from the typewriter, away from the desk. I'd say it occurs in the quiet, silent moments, while you're walking or shaving or playing a game or whatever, or even talking to someone you're not vitally interested in."

In author's word about the tussle between muse and lover-

"I used to be afraid that you were more muse than lover. I used to fear that my love for you wouldn't outlive your function as a character within these pages. Ever so often I would find myself apprehensive about my motives. Was I with you because I loved you? Or was I with you because you were my subject? Was I in love with you because you were a perfect muse? If so, then would i continue to be in love with you after I had committed you to writing? These were not permanent misgivings but passng afflictions, lapses in passion that I ouwld only articulate to myself in the quiet hours of night when I was home alone or struggling with sleep. 

I would pick up this book to reread the poetic text. A good one.