eu·nuch [yoo-nuh
k]
n.
1. A castrated man employed as a harem attendant or as a functionary in
certain Arab palaces. 2. A
man or boy whose testes are nonfunctioning or have been removed. 3.
A castrated person employed to take charge of the women of a harem and act as
chamberlain, ideally suited to guard the bedchamber. 4. Informal: An ineffectual,
powerless, or unmasculine man.
I believe
it’s best to begin this review, as I have done above, with the definition of
the title Eunuch: A Novel by Len
Lustgarten. Although a word that many
may have thought they knew the definition, Eunuch reveals the meaning. Until you read
this masterful book you cannot imagine the intricacies of such a life. Alien as the world Charlton Heston crash
landed on in Planet of the Apes, Len
Lustgarten writes of the Arab princely lifestyle that treat humans like some
form of pet.
Arab oil
billionaires bankroll the kidnapping of helpless boys, women and men and force
them into a lifetime of modern day slavery.
Eventually allowing them to be free – giving extreme wealth as a form of
gratitude – these desert kingpins make this a currently ongoing barbaric
behavior of pseudo generosity. As money makes
the world turn, the world turns a blind eye to this cruel cultural practice and
justifies it under the religious allowances of Islam.
With
this background in mind, let me say Eunuch
is quite honestly a spectacularly original and creative work of literary
genius. Get the picture? I loved it.
From the very start Len Lustgarten immerses the reader into a world of
clones, cultures, and concubines. You
are transported to a palace of sex, slavery and seduction, into the realms of
power, passion and prestige.
Written by a
M.D. with the skill and mastery you would expect to see from another doctor, Michael
Crichton, Len Lustgarten goes into the medicine of cloning, and exponentially
embellishes a story that is frankly pure adrenaline. When you think you know what’s going to
happen, you’re thrown a curve, and then a new sub-plot unfolds. As aggressively as a competition squash game,
Lustgarten takes killer shots of storylines into the corners of logic with such
startling speed the reader is left in awe.
If you take
a close look at the cover, you see sand dunes with a model of what we commonly
see as the double helix structure of DNA behind the title. But if you take a closer “subliminal look” at
the dunes, what appears void of detail reveals a heart (in the shadow),
representing the romantic theme of the book, a woman’s breast, representing the
sensuality, and the wrinkles of a male scrotum.
You can use my visionary description and tell Dr. Rochart that I’m
psychologically imbalanced, or you can begin seeing the deepening genius of Len
Lustgarten’s creative masterpiece, Eunuch.
