I Spit on Your Graves
Boris Vian
Language: English
Pages: 84
ISBN: B015VATYX2
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Published in Paris in 1946 as a hardboiled thriller loaded with sex and blood, allegedly censored in the US and "translated" into French--I Spit On Your Graves was both a pure mystification and direct home to American literature and movies. More deeply, it was a violent attack on racism by a jazz fan who had already befriended many black musicians and was to become the closest French friend of Ellington, Davis, and Parker. Find out why this young author outstripped sales of Malraux, Camus, Sartre, and de Beauvoir when it appeared in France...and continues to scandalize today.
* Bare bones epub scanned and OCRed
The Oxford Book of French Short Stories (Oxford Books of Prose & Verse)
Exercises in Style (65th Anniversary Edition)
Naturally, everybody wanted to read the "mur der" book for themselves. So while d 'Halluin was busy printing new copies, the unexpected publicity put Vian in the forefront. People wanted to know who the unknown author, Sullivan, was. The situation had become grotesque. The trick had gone too far. But beyond the publicity, what was so scandalous about I Spit On Your Graves? The story is narrated by Lee Anderson. He is African-American, but his skin is so light he can pass for white. His younger.
Cheeks. I saw that I was going a bit too fast, so I went over to her. I put my hand on the back of her neck and caressed it softly. "Oh, Lee ! " she cried, "Everything is so different from wha t I expected it to be. I thought you'd be happy to have me all for - 1 36- I Spit on Your Graves yourself. " I said something silly, and then she began to vomit. I didn't have anything around and I had to run to the back room to get a rag that the cleaning woman used to dust the place with. I wondered if.
Snuggled against me and put her head on my shoulder. I waited until we had covered about twenty miles, and then I looked for a good place to stop. I found a stretch where the road was built up on an embankment. I thought that we could just slide down the embankment and I could do it there. I stopped the car. She - 1 65- Boris Vian got out first. I felt Lou's gun in my pocket. I didn't want to use it right away. Even with only one arm I could take care of Jean too. She bent over to fix her shoe.
Was so strong that I let her go and almost staggered to my feet. Her face was all blue, but she didn't move. She was still breathing I think. I took Lou's gun from my pocket and I sent two bullets into her neck, almost point-blank; the blood started bubbling out, slowly, in spurts, with a squirt- , ing sound. All you could see of her eyes was a white thread between her lids. She jerked sud denly, and I think that that was when she died. I turned her over so I wouldn't have to see her face any.
Sox in thick crepe-soled shoes. She was cute. Nice breasts. Probably firm to the touch, like ripe plums. She didn't have a brassiere on and the nipples stuck out through the fabric. She smiled back at me. "Hot, isn't it?" I said to break the ice. "Awful," she said, stretching herself. There were sweat-stains under her armpits. That did something to me. I got up and slipped a nickel into the slot of the juke-' box near the window. "Feel like dancing?" I said, coming over to her. "It'll probably.