Dolly City (Hebrew Literature Series)
Orly Castel-Bloom
Language: English
Pages: 167
ISBN: 1564786102
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Gruesome, unhinged, and hilarious, Dolly City is widely recognized as one of the most disconcerting--and brilliant--literary works ever to come out of Israel.
Before and During (Dedalus Europe)
The closet, I couldn’t watch McMillan going down on his wife in peace. I settled down on the sofa again to watch the copulating couple. For five consecutive episodes they’d been showing the same serialized screw. You really have to hand it to them, the way they drag it out. When they took a break, I listened intently for Son. There was only a disconcerting silence. I got up and opened the melamine closet. It turned out that the little one had smuggled a heap of little knives into the closet,.
All the people in Dolly City are usually on the run. Since they’re always running, there’s always someone chasing them, and since there’s someone chasing them, they catch them and execute them and throw them into the river. The trains in Dolly City run like runs in panty-hose—if you don’t stop them, they’ll reach your crotch. Dolly City, a city of intensive traffic—in everything, babies included. All the babies in Dolly City are adopted, the little bastards. All the mothers in Dolly City are.
Into my hands and not those of the really crazy women, the quiet ones who never say anything at all until they take a glass and smash it on their children’s heads. And the kid, who thought that he’d finally found a chink in my armor, asked me for a popsicle shaped like a rooster. He’d gone too far. I seized his head firmly between my hands, gave him a good shake, and yelled if he’d like me to send him to a kibbutz in some valley. I told him that if he didn’t shut up, I was going to send him to.
Depression, the inhabitants of Dolly City swallowed yellow pills in increasing quantities. I too was plunged in gloom, and I too increased my dosage. I earned my living exclusively from enemas, I became a real expert in the field. A certain accountant I serviced told me that for several nights he had dreamed that the numbers themselves were pursuing him, intent on fucking him up the ass, and he didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t the only one in Dolly City to have this dream. My clients—a cross.
Towel round her body.” I dialed the number which was so deeply etched in my memory, and the switchboard operator answered: “Pan-T at your service, good afternoon.” I didn’t open my mouth. “Pan-T at your service, good afternoon.” I put the receiver down on its cradle. “Is there something wrong?” asked the warden. Suddenly the prison directress emerged from the Jacuzzi with her two towels, just as my friend had warned me. She looked at me curiously. “I’m looking for my roots,” I said.