Meander over the Literature Museum

I found Simon eating a herring at Ons Moeder. “That's one of the few things I miss here”, he said between bites, “a nice herring! Fortunately, Our Mother provides that."

I told him that I will fly to Amsterdam soon and that on my first walk there I will eat a herring sandwich on the Spui, and then drink a cup of coffee on the terrace of Luxembourg and browse the bookshop there, but he didn't budge .

"You're not homesick for Holland yet, excuse me, Amsterdam?" I inquired directly. “No, and still less!” he replied, and he burst into a diatribe that I'm trying to reproduce here as best I can and unexpurgated. “Once in a while I aim the Verrekijk in the form of BVN at our little frog country. That is very small, seen from here.

By the way, did you know that the Netherlands is the only country in the world that thinks it needs not one, but two national drinks tables to drive away boredom? You have that turbo figure with his De Wereld Draait Dol, where the treatment of a subject should definitely not take more than forty seconds and that is embellished with all kinds of attention seekers who all try to be as mischievous as possible.

When I look at that, I always vicariously hyperventilate after a while. They also invariably bring something of music in the form of a band that is allowed to play eight bars and therefore invariably receives stormy applause. That entire program is based on the misunderstanding that if you have nothing to say, you should do so very quickly, then it still seems like something. Well, maybe I'm getting too old for those things....

No, then Pauw and Witteman: they like to give the impression that they are serious about their subjects and their guests. The fact that they then negate that grandiosely by ridiculing everything with their zap service, I personally think is a failure of the first order. But hey, you can't have everything. In any case, they take about ten minutes for each subject, so compared to DWDD that is like emptying a bucket. I hear that both of them are going to stop. 

Well, in one of those two programs (I always get them mixed up!) last week they had one Heleen van Royen as a guest. And why then? This Heleen has managed to get a few books published about her naughty sex life in the past and has since been known as a writer of fiction. She also owes her reputation to a series of nude photos of her and her then husband (Mr. Van Royen) in one or another soft porn periodical.

Why was she with P&W now? Well, she told me in her cracked teapot voice that lately she'd been feeling an irresistible urge to take a lot of selfies, which isn't surprising for someone who has a pathological need for attention. If you don't get it from others, get it from yourself. She has photographed herself endlessly, preferably naked, zooming in on all kinds of parts of her anatomy and then filling a booklet with them.

All at your service, but what does the case want? The Literary Museum in The Hague has decided to dedicate an exhibition to this. The anatomy of this lady can be admired in the Literary Museum in a hundredfold! Yes, why not? The Museum shows off Belcampo's underpants, Kelk's bow tie, Van Vriesland's dentures, Couperus' rot, Corsari's corset, Brill's sunglasses, what not already! It has nothing to do with literature. Literature, I think, is about texts, manuscripts, books, but not about nudes of overripe ladies and that kind of nonsense!

Now for the selfies of this lady, the absolute masterpiece of which was also briefly shown on TV: a close-up of her vagina at the moment a tampon is pulled out. Can it be rancid?? Why is this such an important work? Because the tampon is bloodied! Do you understand? It means that our Heleen, although she is getting on years (forty-nine, I think) is still menstruating. Hallelujah! Chakka! She's still in full swing! Still not in transition!

We can expect a lot more from her! Keep an eye on her! Of course, the entire Dutch people should be told about this in the Literary Museum, of which I hereby propose to change the name, by changing only one letter, to the Leuterkundig Museum.”

Simon gobbled up the last bit of his herring, and I hastened home to give you as literal an account of his memorable words.