Of sex, split personalities and bacalao

Is it true that what is forbidden becomes more desirable and what is controversial breeds awareness? This was how I justified my sister’s doggedness in acquiring an underground copy of Lady Chatterley’s Lover in the early 1960s.

My sister even took the risk that our mother might possibly catch her “menor-de-edad” accomplice as she stashed the paperback under the fold of my pajamas which, in turn, aroused my curiosity. I hid under the covers of our hotel bed to read a few chapters.

“Yikes! How did this author get away with this?” I cried. Using explicit sex scenes and previously banned four-letter words, the author, D.H. Lawrence, described an illicit love affair between a young, aristocratic woman and her working-class lover. Oh, the aristocratic husband is paralyzed; therefore…

Today, I can read off-color novels and not squirm at the author’s attempts to come “daringly close to indelicacy or impropriety.” I don’t mind it so long as dalliances are relevant, confined to a few sentences and capable of injecting tension, intrigue, ecstasy or despair.

Authors, in fact, use this risqué technique to keep the reader riveted to the character, slowly building up a love him/hate him (or both) reaction.   

Ricardo “Ricky” Soler is one such writer. He can describe, as easy as a walk in the park, every thought, every conceivable detail of a sexually-aroused man when confronted with the ravishing form of a woman, naked or clothed, imagined or otherwise.

Every quirk is so vibrant that the reader ends up getting lazy. No rich imagination needed. But he jolts them into saying, “Is it me he’s talking about?” 

 Ricky can be romantic and considerate and scheming — like his characters with multiple personality, or this friend who listened to his friend relate the odd setup of inheriting his father’s mistress.

At the end, one almost imagines Ricky standing anxiously in front of the reader, asking whether he understood his tale or not.

“Capiche?” asked Ricky.

“What is there not to understand?” I shot back at him. That’s when my cerebral wires sparked and flew about.

We connect on some points and disconnect on others. I don’t know whether Ricky does this on purpose but every time it happens, it forces me to open the book to re-read the story. Just so I can prove and reassert my stand.

Stories set in Italy and in France contain details of Ricky’s own visits there. I particularly like one story where he places a fictional character into a famous painter’s life and gives it a local, everyday setting, as common as the one in a doctor’s clinic or in the dark leafy glade of a residential subdivision.

Did Ricky take inspiration for the settings of his stories from events in his own colorful life? Maybe. But for sure, a lot came from his vast knowledge on past and current history. He remains faithful to the memory of the only woman he loved, his muse and his source of light.

Ricky is also a cook, a poet, a joker (corny sometimes) and a confirmed psycho — er, I mean clinical psychiatrist.

One day, some common friends were raving about Ricky’s Portuguese bacalao, the salt-dried codfish that he cooks without pre-soaking in water. I found it too salty but when my taste glands got used to the sharp sensation, I began to scoop up bigger portions.

A dare erupted: “Ricky, try Letty’s version of the bacalao.” His face lit up and he replied, “Of course.” My version had the bacalao fried and swimming in garlic and olive oil; but first, I soak it overnight.

On first taste, Ricky said, “This is the best bacalao I have tasted. My compliments to the cook.” 

 Aw, shucks, Ricky; now we’re on the same page.

  The first daring novel I read is now considered a “classic”; it continues to gain popularity as it is read by new generations of readers. 

Who can tell whether Ricky’s new book will end up a bestseller?

I am cherishing my copy, signed and dedicated, just in case.

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For Starters is available at the National Book Store and Power Books.