I was born into this literary world created by German novelist Patrick Suskind, on July, 17, 1938

Grenouille the Fictive Serial Killer by Joanne Keitt

I was born into this literary world created by German novelist Patrick Suskind, on July, 17 1738. I am a perfumer. Although my mother had the dullest sense of smell, I on the other hand, was born with the ability to smell even the most abstract odor. Because of the mastery I possess, Suskind had no alternative but to entitle his debut novel "Perfume". He snuck in "The Story of a Murderer" subtitle, for a craftsman, rather than a murderer, is how I’d prefer to be remembered. Nevertheless, Suskind allowed me to voyage in his words and he captured the essence of my brilliance. However, I am frustrated with being referred to as

The tick, which makes itself extra small and inconspicuous so that no one will see it and step on it. The lonely tick, which wrapped up in itself, huddles in its tree, blind, deaf and dumb, and simply sniffs, sniffs all year long, for miles around, for the blood of some passing animal that it could never reach on its own power. The tick could let itself drop. It could fall to the floor of the forest and creep a millimeter or two here or there on its six tiny legs and lie down to die under the leaves- it would be no great loss, God knows. But the tick, stubborn, sullen, and loathsome, huddles there and lives and waits. Waits for that most improbable of chances that will bring blood, in animal form, directly beneath its tree. And only then does it abandon caution and drop, and scratch and bore and bite into alien flesh……The young Grenouille was such a tick: (25)

Therefore, I have decided to see and manipulate other parts of the literary world leaving Suskind behind. Being ripped apart due to the potency of my most brilliant potion, due to love and adornment, was not expected. Suskind, you assume too much and think to little of the Great Grenouille, to think that this ending which you envision, is the true end when in fact it was just the beginning. So I will leave this world and enter the worlds of first, Anchee Min’s Red Azalea, and continue on with Jean Pau Sartre’s No Exit, News of a Kidnapping by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, The Double Flame by Octavio Paz although I’m not excited about that one. I am curious about this one girl Zakeya I’ve heard polical officials speak of on the news so I will move on to God Dies By The Nile, by Nawal el Saadawi and then I will see just how much I may be able to learn from John Shattuck’s Forbidden Knowledge and Machiavelli’s The Prince although I would suspect Shattuck may give me more inspiration. I will then take my journey into the classic times of James Joyces’ Ulysses as although I don’t admire his insults which are much like Suskind, I do appreciate his subtlety and ability to create a genre new to the mass audiences much of what I do with my creations. I’ve decided to briefly explore the world of Joyce Carol Oates’ Black Water because I have never allowed myself thoughts of what must go through the minds of my victims as they are ending their time on this earth and although my goal is not to understand, it intrigues me and fills me with curiosity to be inside one’s mind at this critical time, I will then proceed forward into Albert Camus’ novel entitled The Stranger and then finally, I will enter the lives of megalomaniacs like myself who are obsessed with the idea of sexual beauty and the beauty it exudes from women, although my own motive is not sex but the actual act of sex, I will explore the world of the sex craved woman psychosis as depicted in the life and times of Anais Nin in her memoir entitled Incest, sex craved men who manipulate sex craved women as expressed in the novel Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller and then I will enter Lolita by Vladimer Nabokov and analyze the psychosis of a man obsessed with a young girl.. This I will do, not to plot on how to capture the essence of this little girl but instead to marvel at the beauty of looking at myself in the mirror for that is the feeling I suspect I will get from Humboldt Humboldt, as he appears to be the one character out of all these novels with whom I can relate psychologically. In my journey I will direct my attention to how the author manipulates the reader through style, structure, language and time as some do it better than others, and how the characters presented manipulate the scenes arranged by the author.

In my travels to Red Azalea, Mao II, Black Water and The Stranger I will focus on places in the mind as it relates to the internal and external consciousness. In No Exit, Forbidden Knowledge, the Prince and of course, how could I forget the explicit world of the Marquis de Sade, I will view transition using place, time and revelation as my vehicle. I am not excited about my trip to The Double Flame and Ulysses both because of style, but the former because my despise of it and the later because of my envy of it. News of a Kidnapping and God Dies by the Nile will be the places where the people in these worlds may be directly affected by my presence. However the worlds of Incest, Tropic of Cancer and Lolita will also feel my presence however, they will feel it from a teaching perspective as there is a lot they still need to learn. So now, as you so eloquently put it Patrick "…Grenouille nodded and ducked away and was gone. The street was empty." (131)

And so Nuclear Energy has me in purgatory and in purgatory my mind is in Red Azalea, a novel by Anchee Min.

The colors mesmerize me. There is nothing but colors. No sound, no smell simply the colors that make up the farm. Red. Yellow. Green. They shout at me like mischievous fusillade. And I smell their victory. My brighter eyes have allowed me to understand. I know what they need. These colors. They need a place, other than here. The measurement of their scent must reveal their purpose. These colors. They need their space. As the world spins I see the Chinese women on the farm. Yes, this is the world where I will settle. No?

I will create a scent of blue and green and red and violet and I will help them. These colors. I can not hear them as it appears they are discussing the crop. It was not to long ago when I had to devour every odor, every scent, every fragrant and create a human likeness. But today as I’ve been thrown into this time and place, I will, I must devour vision. I will devour light. Color will rule. When you see blue you will feel blue. When you see green you will become envious of the wearer. I the Great Creator. The originator. You the prey of my day. You small weak pawn in my plan. How could you understand? I’ve manipulated your souls. Because of me you are whole. Your blue wool coat will make you sad. You fool! You will wear your red tie with your green suit and think you’re cool. Indeed. You’re imprisoned by your greed as I see you hide behind the barracks. But I will save you. This I will do for you.

So stand and face me so that I may conquer yet another scene from this miserable world of concoctions. The colors will be min and your minds will be rotten. Just because you see me in yellow. You will be happy. All misery will be forgotten. You will love me again. Not this Mao that consumes your mind. You will want to breath beneath my skin. And when I stand naked before you, you will not know me at all. For you do not possess my brighter eyes. In this way you are flawed.

The smell of Jasmine will no longer be the latest craze but instead the unknowing color is by what you’ll be betrayed. And if this is where I stayed, I would rule this phase. Too. Two. Rule. You. Me. I. The great creator and originator. You, the pawn. I will learn what I need to know Ms. Min, and you will ache to teach me more. My youth deceives you I see, I see. Did you not suspect that it could be me? Holding the measuring cup of your life. For you do not posses the brighter eyes. So let’s wait and see, when I see you tonight. When I creep beneath your skin and you know not what it means. When I betray your senses as mine have been betrayed and once again extract the color from your dreams. Does the point of view of Mao affect the journey, the passion, the outcome? "Autumn leaves called my name and asked if I really believed that she was an enemy off the country"(40) I will then extract their scent.

So this is purgatory? Do you truly believe you are beyond my reach? Oh how the farm would be my haven, my heaven. This is where I will…..what has happened? Where am I? What do you want to know? Is this my entrance exam? And now I am here. The French setting makes me feel at home. Trhe French have such a different stylistic view than the Chinese. Jean Paul Sartre’s No Exit finds me wondering if this hell of yours is indeed my heaven. I feel so tired. Sartre says, "Hell is other people", and since I am alone this can not be hell. I am fine and handsome and the only thing I can smell is the funk of my perspiration and the paste of my bad breathe. I cannot smell the emptiness of this room or sense the fullness of its emptiness. The mirrors display more than common beauty. I do not fit in. I stand out! It is too much, an overkill. It is too much! Aahhhughhh! Sartre has made it so that I must stay awake. What? "Twelve bullets through my chest. Sorry! I fear Im not good company among the dead." The dead? It cannot be. I am a part of this world. The dialogue has embraced me. Another voice. I’m from Paris." Yes that is right, this is Paris. " Have you left anyone down there?" Left anyone? The only thing I’ve left behind I can recreate here. But these voices do not seem pretty. So I will simply wait. I am Grenouille the Great. I would have never imagined just how powerful this wonderful creation of mine would be. But they knew. They felt the magic of my human potion and they loved me! They loved me! Those people. I never sensed it coming as they tore the clothes from my body taking my skin with them. I never sensed it. Of course! I never sensed it. I should have known then. I wish they would shut up! It appears to be three characters in this world of Sartre’s. He creates this hell that at first appears like heaven but then he sticks them together. Poor Souls. At least I am alone, so this must be heaven. The stories they tell makes it seem so real. As if hell is really like this. Perhaps for them. I like the male character, Garcin, he wants peace like I do as I hear him say, …" I stuck my fingers in my ears, but your voices thudded in my brain. Perhaps Garcin I can help you. I will have the valet bring me in as the fourth roommate and when you are asleep I will extract the feminity from Inez and the beauty from Estelle and help Sartre help you have piece. I know what you are going through, although I do not pity you, since this is only your hell and my heaven I will do this for you. Jean Paul Sartre, thank you for helping me see that there is only one thing left to do. Return to earth through the literary worlds of other writers and help the world see that there is only one creator. One great one, and as you have allowed me to see, here in No Exit, it is truly me, only me! Grenouille the Great!! And now Gabriel Garcia Marquez, I must visit the world of Pablo Escobar. Hah! I could have had them first. I gave them to you. When the beautiful woman lay her purse down I was there. Looking. Waiting. I could smell the fear coming. I have been to purgatory and to hell and now Mr. Drug Lord, do you think I couldn’t? Smell. The fear. But I decided to follow instead. My fine clothes given to me made me fit in with the crowd. My clothes are now finer than yours and if I can fool them, certainly I can fool you, Mr. drug lord. You and your drugs. And that’s what I must do. I will not rest until I’ve created such a scent that no one will ever want to touch the stuff again my friend. Mi amigo. They will not have to. Just the smell of my fragrance will put them on a natural high that will not destroy them but will destroy you! You are not as smart as you think. No one will want your goods and no one will trust you. But first. The hostages. I need them. They are mine. I’ll arrange their rescue with my special brew and you will not know what hit you. First they’ll be in your care and then they’ll disappear and you’ll wish that you weren’t, when I’m through. You see I know all about it. "Villamizar received a message from Escobar in which he said he would not release Maruja Pachon and Francisco Santos that day but the next-Monday, May 20-at seven in the evening. But on Tuesday at nine in the morning, Villamizar would have to go back to Medellin for Escobar’s surrender."(251) But you see, Gabriel has put me here for a reason. And so while they await your surrender I await your demise. Don’t worry you are safe Maruja. The words are too simple and the style too predictable to do you any harm. I can fell your emotion however, but I do not sense the pain. Do not be too cocky now. But it is the phrases like "The night thickened"(35) and "December 31^st was their big night"(109), that keeps me here, prepared and ready. For it is me who is watching again, "the man returned, still dressed all in black, with frightnening attention had watched her for a long time, not caring that she was looking at him too,"(121) And it is me who will save you all and win. Thank you Gabriel Garcia Marquez for helping me realize my true purpose, and so that I may incorporate style into my plan I must revisit the Chinese world, but this time it is Don DeLillo’s Mao II and this time I can hear the sounds and smell the power. I adore the direction of this novel. There are so many ways to give a sense of time and place and wso many styles to choose from but DeLillo does it in such a traditional way that I forget I am in China. He puts me directly in the scenes like with"Karen was in the bedroom looking at the gift Scott had brought back from the city."(62) I am in that bedroom with Karen. Each Chapter opens in this way like with chapter ten, Scott was still doing lists, moving toward late May now, making lists of things that needed doing, doing the things, going along project by project, room by room."(139). Not only do I find myself wanting to peer over his shoulder to embrace his urgency but I appreciate the sense of exactness and perfection. The style has captured my heart Mr. DeLillo.

You

Have

Allowed me to see just

How important taking out the time to perfect your style and make it your internal project

Truly is. It is an urgency which you depict so greatly in your novel.

Now that I have reached this revelation I must prepare myself for Judgement Day. Octavio Paz’ The Double Flame has brought me back to my days of eroticism and it’s connection between sex and love. The way he juxtaposes thoughts must have only come from a Noble Prize Winner. But don’t boast too much Paz. You and James Joyce both would want to slow down just a bit. "Please sir, may I borrow your hat, as this Mexican sun is blinding me?" ""Sure" Do you see? Do you understand? I am the great one. You try to create this harmony and at times it works. We both understand the ritualness of sex and it appears that you Paz understand how much more beauty would come from capturing this eroticism and spreading it about this poetic world. All everyone wants is the idea that their lives are more than just movements of thought and emotion but poetic markings that will never be forgotten. Ulysses has this trait also. If James Joyce’s words were a woman I would extract them to magnify their beauty. You like myself are ahead of your time. Now I understand why Nuclear energy has sent me here. Like with Baldini, I will quietly learn from your techniques. You do not clutter the pages with quotations adding unnecessary words. It appears that you have thrown away your measduring cups and simply have written from your heart and have peeled away the skin of style. "The necessity of order, a place for everything and everything in its place: the deficient appreciation of literature possessed by females: the incongruity of an apple incuneated in a tumbler and of an umbrella inclined in a closestool: the security of hiding any secret document behind, beneath or between the pages of a book(1565). These are the reflections that are one with my thinking and I know you would understand that if you had a virgin daughter she would have to be part of my ingredients, for what better way to capture the marvelous beauty. We would first have to get rid of Mr. Bloom. Not by death for that has never been my style but there must be a way for he may take his mind into the virgin world of this young flesh and ruin everything. "Why don’t you kill men?" Who is that? "Why is it only kill virgin women if it is not for the sex?" Zakeya of Nawal el Saadawi’s God Dies By The Nile, you see as Suskind clearly illustrated when he put the nude on the dust jacket, I am on a quest for the ideal scent-the essence absolue" of life itself, a perfume made from beautiful women. And of course, for these women to yield their fragrance the will have to be murdered. A man does not exude such beauty. " God has made us all beautiful." Perhaps Zakeya, but I do not join in when others praise him. How important is religion? " I disobeyed God and refused to pray and so did you, Aunt Zakeya. I did not refuse to pray. It was the evil spirit dwelling within which refused." I will not say I never care what I say or do, but it is not to please this God of yours it is so as to not mess up my plans of world denomination. Saadawi reiterates the quality of wanting to be accepted, "he stopped for a moment to cast a look at the Mayors face. Reassured that his words were falling on appreciative ears, he went on". You see, Saadawi, Zakeya, Mayor, once I have accomplished my goals there will be no need to concern yourselfwith acceptance by God or anyone else You will not have to worry about saying the right things for the nose will not lie, it may deceive, but it will not lie. "Shiekh Hamjawi intervened unceremoniously. People have become corrupted everywhere Sheikh Zahran, he said, you can search Islam or for a devout Muslim. They no longer exist." This is the wisest statement Saadawi and the most accurate. Do you have ESP?

Roger Shattuck conveys a lot of information in his book, have you read him Saadawi? In Forbidden Knowledge he fuses literature, religion, science and technology to offer insight to what is good to know and what not knowing can do. On page 19 he refers to Adam and Eve and God. "But we must remember that the apple did not divulge to Adam and Eve full knowledge of things, let alone of the Lord in his quiddity." Later on the same page"had the apple revealed everything to Adam and Eve, no further revelations would have been called for." And to this avail God is put alternately" among the roles of a beneficient Prometheus, a treacherous Pandora and an awesomely stern Zeus. Shattuck breaks down the knowledge in four stages or forms: pure ignorance and innocence, fancy or dream, full experience and beyond mortality. "For true wisdom arrives only at the end of the epic story, when experience has done its work."(73) You see it is the destiny of humankind to go through all of these stages. It is how God has planned it. But I, Grenouille the Great am closer and closer to making that change. The knowledge of this book has opened my eyes and I am no longer annoyed at the characters visited in the literary worlds I just visited as Shattuck has opened my eyes. And it is at the end of this story that true wisdom will arrive from all as I unveil mself and my Godliness to the world. It will be me they love. Roger Shattuck and Machiavelli both have their ideas and ideals of how life should be lived, perhaps readers will read the true way once Henry Miller has written my biography.

Blocked-

By the scent that seized the air

Oh! The relic of it all

Everyone unfolds their mask

Doomed!

The moment has arrived

And he doesn’t even

Sense it

The drift

The waves

All of this he knows

What he knows?

The scent that’s not his own

What he loves?

The hate that’s found it’s home

What he finds?

The beast within the beauty

Of which he holds the throne

Would Machiavelli’s The Prince principles be different because he is from Italy? Does place affect thinking? Does it affect political theory? "VVII New Principalities acquired with the help of fortune and foreign aims—Private citizens who become princes purely by good fortune do so with little exertion on their own part-but subsequently they maintain their position"(20). The principles intrigue me but the style of Shattuck is more impressive.

But it is this knowledge and these principles that help me in Black Water by Joyce Carol Oates and The Stranger by Albert Camus. Black Water intrigues me as you attempt to make humanize these girls. In some ways I should know the thoughts but you make it so clear. I should fell bad, I should but it is all the better. Now that I can envision the mind patterns of life approaching death I can now think about my next mission. So many want to have that afterlife experience now thanks to you and your explicitly crafted words I will be able to capture such an odor. Perhaps it is my Parisian background that does not allow empathy for the victims perhaps it is your American views that make you think I should, nonetheless the longer you keep me here, in her mind, I swell and m brain becomes full of ideas. The jumpiness of your words make it so real but not from pain but from revelation for I can now see beyond the world of reality and realize that it is also this literary world that must love me. Yes! Yes! Yes. And so the fact that "Maman died today"(3) Mr. Camus does not affect me either. For to me my mother has been dead all of my life. Your normalcy is boring in fact. At least in Part One, In Part Two you become brilliant, for it is you who ignites the idea of me, Jean Baptist Grenouille as the judge. I will be taken seriously from the very start. Your novel sets this magnificent stage in my head and I like the way you shift…with starighforward intentions. As if to connote, this is how I want it and this is how it’s going to be. And so, Albert Camus sparked this idea and as I prepare to burn every attainable copy of your writing Anais, or writings about you, I sit and revel at the thought that I should have no affect on you. I only stayed within your Incest long enough to see the horrific damage it may do to my plans. And so Ms. Nin, the books must go. Now!!! Especially incest. I can not afford to have young untouched, yet curious women reading and wondering about life, love and self-awareness. You are correct, we have never met before this day, but I have been keeping a close eye on you.

What you do in your own world is different but this literary world is for us all and I’ll be DAMNED if I am going to sit back and allow you to ruin my plans. Your psychological vision opens a world that utters exploration and creativity. No. No. No. I can not have this.

Must

Admit

your literary devices are potent. I myself would be lured if I were a young female virgin. Your descriptions are inviting. And thus I do not like this Anais Nin. Your crafty words are no match for my brilliance however, you will be my tool. My device. Because of you and the scent of your incest I have no trouble locating my ingredients. You’ve made it easy for me. You try to steal the limelight with your hypersexuality. Nevertheless I like your poetry. After reading it, it creates the perfect moistness that helps create the perfect blend for my potion. Ou and I are too much alike. So stay away from Humboldt and stay away from Henry Miller for they are to provide the last two pieces of my plan and THIS you will not destroy and oh! I do admire you wish Mr. Miller had more to do than have sex with everyone who entered his life. The Marquis de Sade was a much better catch Anais. At least he had no problem with revealing his sexism you on the other hand fried to conceal it confusing it with love. HAH! Love is not an issue right Marquis? "Correct" So before you do any more harm in trying to use manipulate the spoken word in your writings I will grab Humboldts lolita and prepare the courtroom for session and yes! I do admire that you’ve allowed me to enter your mind Humboldt; your devilish thoughts. Very brave. But you have lost your head. Love is hopeless. My desire therefore, is to smell what you see and uplift this desire to its truest level. You dream of "that last immortal day being the ‘Roches Roses’". You have 25 years of life. She will however be my 25^th. You will lead me to her. "pricedom by the sea not by the sea"(41) Well it won’t be by the sea but I will take her back to the home of my soul, to the mountains. The first exhibit put me in a trance. I am impressed, disappointed but impressed. The way you leave me at the edge of beauty is painful bu the way you express your literary acuteness is welcomed. You must learn from me Humboldt. No, I do not need to know her name. I don’t want to see it. It is not necessary. The name. I am won by the mere existence of this lily. Everyone will want to dab on a bit of marvel, rhythm and innocence at once. "that intoxicating brown fragrance of hers…(45)For your Humboldt I will guarentee immortality. And age will be an ally. "My own desire for her blinds me when she is near"(46) Now I see the literary choice shift and this marvelous skinned beauty is now simply a letter of the alphabet. Good. You are learning. But I know your longing. It is the same longing I have. Incidentally: "I have beat you to the cause and the serious murders have been committed(49) "So tomorrow will be judgment day for all of you in this literary world, and Your fate will finally be not in my hands but in my blend. And so you worry about your death. You should worry about your destiny instead for I Grenouille the Great am the judge.