What about a haunted man? Nothing. He is just another man, diluted, condensed and absolutely imperfect. Is this what Hanif Kureishi trying to imply in this meltdown of a book Intimacy? Leave for a lover or not is the question, stay with family or not is the question: what an indelicate balance. In any society, propriety will suggest something decent enough, but what about it, when a book propels the protagonist (or is he the anti-hero?) on a journey that is questionable?
Soon we will be strangers. No, we can never be that. Hurting someone is an act of reluctant intimacy. We will be dangerous acquaintances with a history.
How can you hate a man who admits to humanity? An unlikely love is likely to develop. Or we can go down the path of not accepting true vices. Read under halogen lights or big bright white lights, and you will understand that this book was never written to conform to convenience. It is like sitting with a book on your favourite chair but never finding the right position. And if you happen to find that delectable spot, the book will have finally finished. Too many contradictions you think? That is Intimacy for you.