Given his repertoire of personalities, I was curious as to who he might be after his opium binge. What I found first was an elderly and kindly sage, in awe of the life he had led. As an identity it was not particularly convincing; as a posture, though, it was highly attractive. I was put in mind not of the man he really was so much as the man he might have been if not for ’Nam. “I’ve ordered breakfast,” he said. “Shall we have it on the balcony?” We shifted chairs around a small marble table, then the breakfast arrived: stainless steel coffee and milk pots, Danish pastries, croissants, pains au chocolat, cheese, eggs, and cold cuts. The waiter poured the coffee and left. “Myths,” Dr. Christmas Bride said. “One really cannot do without them. How are you on Faust?” “Faust? Pact with the devil?” “Exactly,” the Doctor said. “Oh, Buddha.” “Yes, quite,” Bride said. He waved a hand at the assorted clumps of humans down below in the square in front of the Opera House.
What do You think about The Bangkok Asset: A Novel?
