BORIS VIAN J IRAIS CRACHER SUR VOS TOMBES PDF
August 26, 2020 | by admin
Si vous le lisez avec l’espoir de trouver dans J’irai cracher sur vos tombes quelque chose capable de mettre vos sens en feu, vous allez drôlement ètre déçu. He claimed that J’irai cracher sur vos tombes (I Shall Spit on Your Graves) was his translation of an underappreciated young black author. French title: J’irai cracher sur vos tombes; Translated into English by Boris Vian and Milton Rosenthal; With a Preface by Boris Vian; The TamTam edition comes .
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Goodreads helps you keep track of books you want to read. Want to Read saving…. Want to Read Currently Reading Read. Refresh and try again. Open Preview See a Problem? Thanks for telling us about the problem. Return to Book Page. He was also a French translator of American hard-boiled irxis novels. One of his discoveries was an African-American writer by the name of Vernon Sullivan. The book is about a ‘white Negro’ who acts out an act of revenge against a small Southern town, in repayment for the death of his brother, who was lynched by an all white mob.
Upon its release, I Spit on Your Graves became a bestseller in France, as well as a instruction manual for a copycat killer whose copy of I Spit on Your Graves was found k the murdered body of a prostitute with certain violent passages underlined.
A bos trail also came up where Sullivan as the author was held responsible for the material. Cracherr was later disclosed that Vian himself wrote the book and made up the identity of Vernon Sullivan! This edition is a translation by Vian, that was never published in America. I Spit on Your Graves is an extremely bois sexy hard-boiled novel about racial and class prejudice, revenge, justice, and is itself a literary oddity due to the fact that it was written by a jazz-loving white Frenchman, who had never been to America.
I Spit on Your Grave () – IMDb
Published October 31st by Tamtam Books first published November 21st United States of America. To see what your friends thought of this book, please sign up. To ask other readers questions about I Spit on Your Gravesplease sign up. Be the first to ask a question about I Spit on Your Graves. Lists with This Book. I’m afraid I found this book rather revolting. It is meant to be read ironically at some level at least, it is widely claimed that that’s the correct interpretationbut to me it came across more as sadistic pornography.
I Spit on Your Graves – Boris Vian
Though the author was, as iris, very inventive. He wrote the book in French, but claimed it was a translation of an American thriller written by a hitherto unknown black author; the cacher, Vian said, couldn’t be published in the US because the story involved a black hero who s I’m afraid I found this book rather revolting. He wrote the book in French, but claimed it was a translation of an American thriller written by a hitherto unknown black author; the book, Vian said, couldn’t be published in the US because the story involved a black hero who seduces and finally kills two white women in a particularly horrible way.
The text is cleverly mangled so that it indeed appears to have been translated from English. The book was a bestseller, but destroyed poor Vian. Then he had a fatal heart attack while watching the premiere vuan the very bad movie version, which he disowned – among other things, they had pasted on a happy ending, despite the fact that it is structurally a Greek tragedy.
His last words were something like “Those assholes are never Americans”, and he keeled over. He was only The streak of bad luck continued even after his death. Vian disliked the first movie enough to die rather than watch it to the end, and he would almost certainly have disliked the second one bos more. I feel this story needs a moral, but have no idea what it might be!
Maybe some insightful person can point it viam View all 22 comments. Nov 28, karen rated it liked it Shelves: View all 4 comments. Herkes onu “beyaz” zannediyor. View all 6 comments.
La historia es una espiral de violencia, venganza, sexo y alcohol sin nada de relleno y contada sin tapujos. Hay escenas francamente muy duras. Supongo que eso es precisamente lo que buscaba Boris Urais. View all 3 comments. I am sure some Vian fans will take issue with my putting this novel on the pulp fiction level but really, is it necessary to brag about fucking 13 year olds and abusing n in order to be considered a “rebel” as a writer?
Do I absolutely have to be disgusted and want to throw up due to the oppressive misogyny and violence of the story to call it art? I draw the line here as I did with the second Larssen book that this was too gratuitous, too full of hate of women, too devoid of humanity or hu I am sure some Vian fans will take issue with my tpmbes this novel on the pulp fiction level but really, is it necessary to brag about fucking 13 year olds and abusing them in order to be considered a “rebel” as a writer?
I draw the line here as I did with the second Larssen book that this was too gratuitous, too full of hate of women, too devoid of humanity or jj. I am far from puritanical as anyone looking through my read list on GR would see.
I was viah put off by the bizarre scenes in Roth or Pynchon or even Sade. But I felt that Vian was just writing to smell his cum as he masturbated on bboris pages. He did not care about what his eventual readers would thing or how painful it might be to read for them. I find this book contemptuous and wish I had not attempted to read it.
Boris Vian: still spitting from beyond the grave
That being said, it seems that the current President shares the same disdain and lack of respect for women that Vian did: Nov 02, [P] rated it liked it. At one time I would actively avoid pain and unhappiness, torture and murder, in my reading. I called those who sought out that kind of thing literary ambulance chasers. And yet over the last twelve months I have found myself increasingly indulging in it too, even though it still disturbs and upsets me. While I still feel compassion for others, I now realise that I am probably drawn to books that confirm this negative world view, the view that people are essentially full of shit and life is mostly viciousness, pettiness, vapidity and suffering.
He wrote I Spit On Your Graves, which as previously suggested is decidedly not cute nor twee, in two weeks as a genre exercise. On face value, it is a passable, better than average, and certainly readable, example of hard-boiled noir in which a man arrives in a town and seeks to take revenge upon some of the inhabitants for the murder of his younger brother. The narrator, Lee Anderson, is engagingly, typically, broad-shouldered and mean; and the supporting cast also conform to expectations, which is to say that the men are hard-drinkers and the women — who make up the majority — are hot-to-trot.
Nearly all noir is political, because it is so class conscious; it deals almost exclusively with the lower — a word I use economically, not necessarily morally — elements of society and with crime. However, not often, or certainly not when the book was written, is race a factor. Secondly, and more interestingly, it is also used as a weapon. Anderson is able to pass amongst the whites because he looks like them.
Using the stealth of his appearance, he targets two young, local white girls, who he intends to bed and then dispose of. Crucially, he wants them to know that they were fucked by a black man before he kills them, as he believes that this will horrify them.
It is worth pointing out before going any further that the book was originally published under the name Vernon Sullivan. This was not, moreover, an ordinary pseudonym. In a move that put him in the same position as his central character, Vian — a white Frenchman — took on the disguise of a black American, going so far as to pen a preface in which Sullivan outlines the intention or philosophy behind his work.
That Vian would not want his own name associated with the book is not surprising, as a story this controversial and relentlessly grim might have been career suicide.
However, I feel as though his decision to use a persona, especially that of a black man, was an unfortunate one. First of all, if you are going to write something like I Spit On Your Graves, in which I imagine Vian believed he was making serious, important points about his society, you ought to have the balls to claim it as your own, and not try and palm it off on the very elements of that society that you feel are unjustly treated.
Secondly, using Vernon Sullivan strikes me as an attempt to give his opinions and ideas authenticity, as though he understood himself that a successful white Frenchman speaking for disenfranchised black America suggests a lamentable, almost offensive, level of arrogance. He is athletically built, criminal, violent and sex obsessed.
There is barely a paragraph that goes by in which the narrator is not lusting after one young teenage girl or other. Sex is — far more than revenge, or his brother, or injustice — almost all he thinks about.
Furthermore, one also has to ask why all the girls that Anderson sleeps with, and in some cases rapes, are underage. I struggled to understand the relevance of that. It felt seedy, nasty, and pointless. To have made them of age, in their twenties for example, would not have altered the story at all, except to make it marginally less disturbing.
But maybe that was the point: Vian wanted his novel to be as unpleasant as possible, but to what end I do not know. Jan 18, knig rated it liked it Shelves: I say imaginings, because its doubtful Vian ever set foot in America, although this of course is not the point. A highly stylised crime noir, this slim novel packs in every conceivable affront to general morality and human decency.
Being able to integrate in white circles, Lee Anderson plots with cold calculation the path to multiple degradation and murders which will presumably tilt the balance of justice in his favour, to make up for the loss of his brother. In a slight deviation from traditional revenge noirs, the intended targets here are not his brothers killers, but just any old whites, as long as they have sufficient standing in the community, so their deaths may make a splash.
And so let the games begin. As each sordid scene unravels and bleeds into the next, it heralds a massive indictment on the hypocrisy, value corruption and decay of every conceivable layer of society: No one comes up trumps in this blazing inferno of human greed and desire seeking ever more depraved outlet: Es un sopapo directo a la cara.
Es horrendo, cruel, terriblemente violento, asqueroso. Es imposible identificarse con los actos de su protagonista.
Como no lo tuvieron nunca los asesinos y racistas que desolaron poblaciones enteras. Ganas de llorar, de vomitar, de gritar, de putear, de exigir. Chapeau para Boris Vian