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1) A library of cookbooks, crafting how-to books and children?s literature.
2) A library of biographies, analysis and grand guignol: serial killers, those psychoid inhabitants of the Western nightmare and the men who hunt them.
3) A library of sex manuals, from the Kama Sutra on down. Position on position, tangled limbs, mixed fluids. Paths to ecstasy.
The library of HT distills all of these into a single theme: Fear.
(Strangely, so does the library of SJ, though with different books, by a different route and with different goals.)
The first section of the library of HT reveals the classic pre-natal trip. Comfort, security, beautiful and satisfying things. The environment of the child is made peaceful, serene, nurturing.
But every thing requires its opposite. If one is to feel nurtured and protected and secure, one must invoke the thing that can destroy that security. And one must invoke as brutally as possible. The knife, the rope, the calloused hand. The rape. Violation. Murder. It is entirely natural that Bundy and Dahmer and Manson share space with Harry Potter and the denizens of Narnia.
And as for the nameless educational models who stretch and grasp, lick, penetrate and allow themselves to be penetrated further down the shelf? Sex is no social lubricant; the act itself is the ultimate threat to security. Done properly, it too is violent, unpredictable; a truly inspired fuck creates complete vulnerability. In a lovers body we see our temporary selves mirrored, in a lovers gasped breath we hear our own eventual dissolution in the airy masses of eternity. What could be worse, more frightening than this? This death in life. Better to keep the real humanity flat and glossy, trapped in pages that never see whispered consultations by candlelight.
Abandon all hope, ye who would enter this library. It is a dead end. Time to upgrade! The better story is out there, waiting to be read...