An Awkward Love Affair

The piece "Perfume: The Story of a Love Affair" by Andre Aciman, isn't exactly a story of romance. It actually seems to be quite the contrary for the majority of the article, and the depressing introductory paragraph certainly doesn't speak of love; "Turin on a rainy day, everything is gray. As I step out of the grand old-world train station, the city looks exactly as I'd imagined it: A cross between, say, Detroit, Dayton and Duluth". As if that drab comparison wasn't bad enough he goes further blatantly informing the reader that, "You don't go there unless you have to, and until now I've never had to. But I'm a guest of the Turin Book Fair, so I'm here, counting the days, the hours". Right off the bat it's pretty obvious he doesn't want to be there, he actually can't wait to get out of there and has no qualms about sharing this with the reader which leaves me wondering, why even bother continuing? But out of obligation I do. He then goes to a perfume shop where his melancholy tone is still apparent; "Inside, a salesgirl comes over and greets me and, before I have time to make a U-turn, asks if I want to smell anything". At this point I'm on the second page and he still doesn't want to be where he is, at this point I'm wondering why is he even writing this then?

After spending some amount of time in the shop and having several different scents wafted at him, his mood still hasn't changed; "I have no intention of buying anything. Plus I'm overwhelmed by these loutish, quasi-bordello scents. I ask her to stop spraying. She notices I'm eager to leave and asks if I want her to spray a dash of bergamot on me - for the road, she seems to say. I figure she'll spray some on my palm, or wrist, discreetly. Instead, she sprays the whole right sleeve of my sweater. I fear the worst. The scent will infest my room, my clothes, my suitcase. Before I know it, the salesgirl sprays the other sleeve with Charme & Feuilles. This is the worst thing in the world. I smell debauched". At this point using words like "loutish" "quasi-bordello" and "debauched", he sounds more miserable than ever, there is no romance here, certainly no love affair. According to him he basically feels awkward, corrupted and debased and smelling slightly of a brothel, at this point his melancholy is starting to seep off the page into my own feelings, why am I still asking myself why I'm reading this piece?

Finally in the last chunk of the article we start to see a change, he smells something, but he admits that he's still "trying not to like it". Suddenly within the span of a few short paragraphs he goes from counting down hours, and attempting to U-turns, to referring to connecting with something new as a "miracle"; "It occurs when we surrender. I can't fight this, this is stronger than me, this is better than what I know. I tried to hate, and I failed".

I'm all for positive transformations but this just seems too much too suddenly. The term "love affair", infers some length of time, some progression and growing affection but a passionate one, this article doesn't mention anything remotely romantic until the last paragraph. It makes the sudden emotional reversal feel just as awkward as the rest of the piece, it doesn't feel genuine, instead it feels forced and awkward, and still after reading the conclusion I am left wondering, why did I read this piece?