Had Don Bosco, since we last visited, been miraculously transformed by the spirit of Christian brotherhood? Had the eternal benevolence of the Lord cleansed the students of their vile? Negro, please. Certainly the school struck Oscar as smaller now, and the older brothers all seemed to have acquired the Innsmouth "look" in the past five years, and there were a grip more kids of color—but some things (like white supremacy and people-of-color hate) never change: the same charge of gleeful sadism that he remembered from his youth still electrified the halls. (2.6.1.3)

The first feel of a woman's body pressing against yours – who among us can ever forget that? And that first kiss – well, to be honest, I've forgotten both of these firsts, but Oscar never would. For a second, he was in disbelief. This is it, this is really it! Her [Ybón] lips plush and pliant, and her tongue pushing into his mouth. And then there were lights all around them and he thought I'm going to transcend! Transcendence is miiine! (2.6.14.6)

I know what Negroes are going to say. Look, he's writing Suburban Tropical now. A puta [prostitute] and she's not an underage snort-addicted mess? […]. Would it be more believable if I turned Ybón into this other puta I know, Jahyra, a friend and a neighbor in Villa Juana, who still lives in one of those old-style pink wooden houses with the zinc roof? […]

But then I'd be lying. I know I've thrown a lot of fantasy and sci-fi in the mix but this is supposed to be a true account of the Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao. (2.6.7.1-2.6.7.2)