I finished reading J.M. Coetzee's Disgrace the other day. Best thing I've read in a long time; beautifully written, elegantly constructed, soul-crushingly depressing.
And beginning with an account of a man's involvement with a prostitute as a regular client praising her virtues. Not told too obnoxiously -- I've seen worse -- and there's a hint of realism interfering with the romance the character has constructed for himself in his head at the end of the excerpt, but it's the sort of thing that makes me less than eager to pick up a book. I get tired of the trope.
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