VRACS
En Vrac, sur ma table de chevet :
Lydia Yuknavitch : Real to Reel – une collection de nouvelles pour le moins prometteuses – voix multiples tentant de cerner une réalité brute, brutale, passages de relais acrobatique de l’une à l’autre, postmodernisme, sex, drug and rock’n roll…..trauma de la langue, perversions à tous les étages… ;chez l’indispensable FC2.
Edwin A. Abbott : "Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions" : un classique, écrit en 1880, mettant en scène un monde en deux dimensions, dont les habitants géométriques (des carrés) faisant soudain l’expérience d’une troisième vont peu à peu remettre en question leur vision du réel (et de la société victorienne)… « Barré » à souhait !
C’est en ligne ici : http://www.alcyone.com/max/lit/flatland/
Peter Markus : The singing fish : un roman d’apprentissage complètement halluciné, au rythme de mantra –hypnotique ou boueux, that’s the question… « Then Girl stepped with both of her girl feet into this bottomless mud. Us brothers, we watched Girl lift up the cottony hem of her girl dress. The mud reached up just barely to kiss Girl's knees. Girl's knees, they are the kind of knees that make us brothers want to stay forever kneeling. When Girl stepped into this mud, it was like dipping the oar of a rower's boat into a muddy puddle. It's true, Girl was that big. Girl was so big, us brothers, we climbed our way up the side of her mud-barked body as if she were a tree. This tree, we knew, we would never get up to the top. Something would stop us -- the moon, the stars. Some passing by bird or aeroplane would get in our climbing way. The moon rising up rose, but it stopped rising when it got all tangled up in Girl's hair. Girl thought the moon was just a knot of hair that the wind had twisted up. Girl walked around for a month with the moon sitting on top of her girl's head. »
Trevor Dodge – Everyone I know lives on roads – celui ci, pour le moins excitant, je ne peux m’empêcher de vous coller direct le 4eme de couverture : « Everyone I Know Lives On Roads examines the accident scene of identity, fate and language, measuring the skidmarks for traces of our Oedipal selves and chalking out the metaphorical places where these three paths converge. Drivers, passengers and fellow road ragers along the way include Kathy Acker, Alan Greenspan, Jacques Derrida, Ayn Rand, Michael Alig and James Joyce, with Dan Rather phoning in the traffic report every 20 minutes. »
Zack Wentz : The Garbage man and the prostitute. Last but not least….l’improbable conjonction de Faulkner et de K Dick, de Alan Moore et de William Burroughs - l’histoire d’une alter-Amérique ou des choses étranges se produisent….un super-héros gras et chauve viole des jeunes filles, une star du porno disparaît mystérieusement, un loup-garou serial killer s’en prend aux prostituées, les gangs attendent l’arrivée du messie, une force inexplicable semble pousser le pays vers la guerre civile. Allez tiens, ils en parlent mieux que moi :
“A sad and creepy work which, like all science fiction, is really about the present. Many moving effects; much consensual and nonconsensual power exchange with alien life. Entertaining and at times haunting.”
William T. Vollmann
“...A sensuous riot of language, perverse and outrageous - a wild, gonzo-porn excavation of some wicked, post-futurist landscape rendered with such scatological precision you can practically see the buildings sweat. Zack Wentz is Pynchon, Bukowski, P. K. Dick, and someone else - some huffy, undiscovered heavyweight - all swinging at once, fists knowingly trained on the reader’s sense of what’s possible in fiction.”
Matthew Derby, author of Super Flat Times
“Dirty and alive . . .”
Steve Aylett author of Slaughtermatic and Lint
Bonne nuit, les petits !
Lydia Yuknavitch : Real to Reel – une collection de nouvelles pour le moins prometteuses – voix multiples tentant de cerner une réalité brute, brutale, passages de relais acrobatique de l’une à l’autre, postmodernisme, sex, drug and rock’n roll…..trauma de la langue, perversions à tous les étages… ;chez l’indispensable FC2.
Edwin A. Abbott : "Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions" : un classique, écrit en 1880, mettant en scène un monde en deux dimensions, dont les habitants géométriques (des carrés) faisant soudain l’expérience d’une troisième vont peu à peu remettre en question leur vision du réel (et de la société victorienne)… « Barré » à souhait !
C’est en ligne ici : http://www.alcyone.com/max/lit/flatland/
Peter Markus : The singing fish : un roman d’apprentissage complètement halluciné, au rythme de mantra –hypnotique ou boueux, that’s the question… « Then Girl stepped with both of her girl feet into this bottomless mud. Us brothers, we watched Girl lift up the cottony hem of her girl dress. The mud reached up just barely to kiss Girl's knees. Girl's knees, they are the kind of knees that make us brothers want to stay forever kneeling. When Girl stepped into this mud, it was like dipping the oar of a rower's boat into a muddy puddle. It's true, Girl was that big. Girl was so big, us brothers, we climbed our way up the side of her mud-barked body as if she were a tree. This tree, we knew, we would never get up to the top. Something would stop us -- the moon, the stars. Some passing by bird or aeroplane would get in our climbing way. The moon rising up rose, but it stopped rising when it got all tangled up in Girl's hair. Girl thought the moon was just a knot of hair that the wind had twisted up. Girl walked around for a month with the moon sitting on top of her girl's head. »
Trevor Dodge – Everyone I know lives on roads – celui ci, pour le moins excitant, je ne peux m’empêcher de vous coller direct le 4eme de couverture : « Everyone I Know Lives On Roads examines the accident scene of identity, fate and language, measuring the skidmarks for traces of our Oedipal selves and chalking out the metaphorical places where these three paths converge. Drivers, passengers and fellow road ragers along the way include Kathy Acker, Alan Greenspan, Jacques Derrida, Ayn Rand, Michael Alig and James Joyce, with Dan Rather phoning in the traffic report every 20 minutes. »
Zack Wentz : The Garbage man and the prostitute. Last but not least….l’improbable conjonction de Faulkner et de K Dick, de Alan Moore et de William Burroughs - l’histoire d’une alter-Amérique ou des choses étranges se produisent….un super-héros gras et chauve viole des jeunes filles, une star du porno disparaît mystérieusement, un loup-garou serial killer s’en prend aux prostituées, les gangs attendent l’arrivée du messie, une force inexplicable semble pousser le pays vers la guerre civile. Allez tiens, ils en parlent mieux que moi :
“A sad and creepy work which, like all science fiction, is really about the present. Many moving effects; much consensual and nonconsensual power exchange with alien life. Entertaining and at times haunting.”
William T. Vollmann
“...A sensuous riot of language, perverse and outrageous - a wild, gonzo-porn excavation of some wicked, post-futurist landscape rendered with such scatological precision you can practically see the buildings sweat. Zack Wentz is Pynchon, Bukowski, P. K. Dick, and someone else - some huffy, undiscovered heavyweight - all swinging at once, fists knowingly trained on the reader’s sense of what’s possible in fiction.”
Matthew Derby, author of Super Flat Times
“Dirty and alive . . .”
Steve Aylett author of Slaughtermatic and Lint
Bonne nuit, les petits !
posted by pugnax at 4:50 AM
1 Comments:
Happy to see that my book, The Singing Fish, has found its way to your bedside stack. Hope the brothers sing for your ears.
Best,
Peter Markus
thesingingfish@gmail.com
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