The book about the cannibal genius Hannibal Lecter I am reading has a HAPPY END. His legs are about to be devoured by giant tusked pigs when Special Agent Clarice S. breaks in, kills his sadist torturers and saves him. The he psychoanalyses Clarice and makes her relive under hypnosis her relation with the absent father, and cures her. Then, in turn, she cures him of his sick obsession with his little sister Masha, of the unsolved trauma of watching her consumed by starving deserters. Then, in a seudat metim ritual, a kind of funeral banquet, they consume small pieces of the brain of Clarice's boss extracted in vivo, after grilling it in hot butter and aromatic herbs. Who has no fantasies of revenge against his boss? But this is the most refined of all: the boss keeps talking and singing nursery rhymes after his lobotomy, watching his brain being prepared and eaten.
The "and they lived happily ever after..." is the best: the Lecter couple spends their days visiting art events all over the world, in an endless cultural tour. They were last seen in the Teatro Colon of Buenos Aires, a magnificent theater built by Italian masters around the century, when Argentina was the world wealthiest country. Being a student, I had a low price abono to the high galleries of the Colon, so it is not impossible that I have met the aged, very distinguished looking Dr. Lecter couple among the grey-haired European crowd that used to congregate in the luxurious lobby.
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