Ruth handed Scott a stack of the Polaroids, without comment. They were the pictures Ted had taken of his models, both before and after he drew them. Ted told the models that the photos were necessary so that he could continue to work on the paintings when the models weren't there; he needed the photos "for reference." In fact, he never continued to work on the drawings. He just wanted the photographs.

When Scott finished looking at one stack of photos, Ruth showed him another. The pictures had that amateur quality which most really bad pornography has; that the models themselves were not professional models wad only part of it. There was an awkwardness to their poses that suggested sexual shame, but there also was a sense of haste and carelessness about the photographs themselves.

"Why are you showing me these?" Scott asked Ruth.

"Do they turn you on?: she asked him.

"You turn me on," he told her.

"I guess they turn my father on," Ruth said. "They're all his models -- he's fucked every single one of them."

Scott was leafing quickly through the photographs without really looking at them; it was hard to look at the photos if you weren't alone. "There are a lot of women here," he said.

"Yesterday, and the day before, my father fucked my best friend," Ruth told him.

"Your father fucked your best friend..." Scott repeated thoughtfully.

"We're what an idiot sociology major would call a dysfunctional family," Ruth said.

A Widow for One Year is John Irving's latest novel (assuming you don't count the non-fiction one about his movie affair). As with all of his work, I've enjoyed this story. Irving has a very specific style that you either love or hate.