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Voorkant cover van Eros
Achterkant cover van Eros
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Voorkant cover
Achterkant
Achterkant cover

Eros
The Death of Hope

Auteur

Daan Reins

Uitvoering
Paperback
Prijs
€ 21 ,50
Verzending
Gratis verzending in Nederland en België
Levertijd
Twee tot vijf werkdagen
(Nederland en België) (Past door brievenbus)

Samenvatting

Malcolm has never had it easy: From a young age he’s struggled with depression, self-hatred and drug use. Luckily for him things turned out alright. Most of his glee is thanks to Mary, the mother of his child and the only woman who, after all these years, still has the ability to raise his heartrate.
However, one day Malcolm’s impulsive behaviour and bad decisions catch up with him and he loses his family forever.

Eros is a novel about love, hatred, loss and vengeance. It is a thriller at heart, though it uses its action to convey questions about morality, identity and humanity.

Over de auteur

Daan Reins is a nineteen year old philosophy student. After a writing assignment for his English class two years ago, he conceived the perverted idea of writing a novel about the hypotheticals in the most twisted parts of his mind. This book is his first project and he hopes it to be one of many. He has little aspiration in the way of fame and fortune, but he would like to be heard and resonate with an audience.

Productinformatie

ISBN
9789402246926 / 978-94-022-4692-6
Uitgeverij
Boekscout
Verschijning
24-08-2018
Taal
Nederlands
Uitvoering
Paperback
Pagina's
196
Formaat
A5
Illustraties
Nee

Inkijk

I wake exhausted. The first hurdle is getting out of bed. Why would I? Why would anyone? What’s out there of value? Nothing. I look at the ceiling as haunting memories return to my mind. Small things first: people I’ve hurt, unpleasant conversations I’ve had, stuff I screwed up. Then the big issues: Amie, Mary, you, me. How I’ve lost so much in so little time and how I blame myself. I roll out of bed because filling my time with inconsequential incentives sounds preferable to staying alone with me. I go get breakfast: cornflakes and brandy, and if this is a particularly off-day, a spliff. I get angry at myself for living like this, which ironically offers me more reason to numb myself. All the while my brain scorns me with all its might: a considerable amount, only I know all I’ve done. I check my phone: I didn’t get any messages, perhaps one from you. Even if I did, I’d wilfully ignore it. I don’t have the energy to maintain composure for anyone. I know there’s no reason to check, but I guess I want more people to care. Even though I know that if they would, I’d push them away. The same as with you: I both want and need your help desperately, and simultaneously am annoyed to bits by any actual support. Hours pass, bottles slowly get emptied, tobacco gets smoked. I get hungry again. Cooking for myself sounds like a joke at this point. I decide to clog my arteries with a type of fast food. I realize as I’m paying the delivery boy, this is the first time I’ve seen the sun today. I close the door and don’t miss it. I go to bed, only to be awoken by my own enervation the next day.

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