Timoleon Vieta Come Home A Sentimental Journey
Cockroft is a composer and socialite in self-imposed exile. He has a dilapidated home in the Italian countryside and a trickle of royalties from faded glories that allow him one debauched weekend per month in Florence. And, of course, he has the ever-loyal Timoleon vieta--A montrel with the uncanny knack of touching the lives of damaged people and possessor of the most beautiful eyes. During his sorties into the city, Cockroft invariably drinks too much and propositions young men, leaving them his card along with an offer of free accommodation in return for oral sex every Wednesday. when a handsome but surely individual known only as The Bosnian unexpectedly takes the elderly man's offer, Timoleon senses that he is not all that he claims, and the relationship between the dog and his master is put under strain. Cockroft is soone forced into a decision: The Bosnian or Timoleon? Blow jobs on a Wednesday or the companionship of a pure-hearted dog? During a trip to Rome, Timoleon is abandoned outside the Coliseum by a drunk and maudlin Cockfoft and a vindictive and triumphant Bosnian. But the dog will not diappear so easily and begins a long and adventurous trek home to Cockroft as his master's relationship with The Bosnian disntegrates and his fantasizing and reminiscing intensify. On the journey home, Timoleon flits through the lives of many, and we are given small insights into theses people's existence; tales of broken hearts, broken minds, and broken spirits. In a tragicomic work of macabre beauty, written in a style of deceptive simplicity but fierce emotional immediacy, Rhodes amuses and moves in euqal measure. Timoleon Vieta Come Home is a novel about love, sex, and death thatfulfills the promise of Rhodes's hugely acclaimed two collections of short stories. Excerpt from Timoleon Vieta Come Home The self-conscious preening, superior airs and inbred neuroses of teh pedigree were not for him. His heritage was clearly such a mess that any attempt to untangle it could only be a futile exercise. From a distance there wasn't much to distinguish Timoleon Vieta from any of the other mongrels in Umbria. He was black with occasional sposts of white and tan, and of average size, maybe a little smaller. But he was somewhat different than the others.He was very well looked after, for a start, even injulged. He was no longer anywhere near as skinny as the Perugia strays, his nose shone with moisture and his coat, while being of various, apparently random lengths, was glossy and clean. And there was something else that stood out about him--something that made him particularly unusual, and different even from other strays who had unwittingly stumbled into good homes. For although he was a mongrel, Timoleon Vieta's eyes were as pretty as a little girl's.
