Daddy Lenin and Other Stories Read Online Free PDF

“sometimes – I don’t know quite how to put this – people experience physical symptoms that are a proxy for other worries and anxieties. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying this is true of you, I don’t know you personally or your circumstances, but I wonder if you’re not undergoing stress in other areas of your life: difficulties at work, relationship problems, anything of that kind?”
    All of the above and more
, thought Brewster. What he said was, “Nothing beyond the usual small day-to-day discontents.”
    “I could refer you to our pain management clinic. Cognitive behavioural therapy sometimes produces good results. The clinic takes a holistic approach. They even offer kundalini yoga classes.”
    “Thanks but no thanks,” said Brewster rising abruptly from his chair. “I’m not a kundalini kind of guy. I guess I’ll just bite the bullet and soldier on.”

    Because of Eva’s busy academic life, Friday night was the one night a week that she would consent to spend at Brewster’s apartment. Although they both taught at the university, they had only met a year ago, when the faculty club hosted a touring jazz trio. Eva arrived late and, finding all the tables occupied, she had approached Brewster because he was, as usual, flying solo. Looking charmingly flustered, she had asked if he had any objections to her joining him. He hadn’t and so they had passed a few pleasant hours, chatting between sets, Eva talking enthusiastically and glowingly about the great work being done by The Centre for Interdisciplinary Studies, where she had recently been appointed director.
    Brewster was more guarded about his own work, volunteering scarcely anything about his projects or professional interests. When the evening came to an end and he fished his cellphone out to call a taxi, Eva quickly offered to give him a ride home. She said it was a case of quid pro quo; after all, he had surrendered a seat at his table to a stranger. When they had pulled up outside The Marlborough in Eva’s Mini Cooper, Brewster asked if she would care for a nightcap. She accepted the invitation, one thing led to another, and now twelve months later they found themselves peevishly staggering to the end of something that should never have started in the first place.
    Eva and Brewster both knew it was over, but hadn’t yet taken steps to initiate the mercy killing. They were too different for it ever to have worked. Eva was forty-seven, fifteen years younger than Brewster, and she was confidently, optimistically convinced that she was just hitting her stride as an academic. Like Gatsby, Brewster was staring longingly at thegreen light beckoning at the end of the dock, which was, in his case, imminent retirement from a career that had proved to be less than stellar.
    Eva prided herself on being cutting-edge. Recently, her students, affronted by the way women were sexualized in advertising, had made a video that portrayed males as sexual objects. Brewster had checked this video out, a morality play that involved overweight, hairy young men in cocksock underwear licking their lips, batting their eyelashes, and provocatively plumping their ripe-for-a-training-bra pectorals for the camera. Eva assured him that this had gone viral on YouTube.
    Brewster knew he was definitely not cutting-edge; he wasn’t even sure that he qualified for blunted-edge designation. The opinion of his colleagues and certainly his students was that he belonged in some professorial Jurassic Park. The comments he received on Rate My Professor were dismissive.
Definately do not take a class from this guy. Only his opinion matters. I interpreted a poem and he trashed all my ideas because of punctuation. Maybe he should get a life
.
    Of course, he had made the mistake of taking a peek at Eva’s online evaluations, which were uniformly laudatory and enthusiastic.
The best prof ever, I learned so much I can’t even say!!!!
Or
Everyday in her class is fun. If she gave a