Necrophiliac

Gabrielle Wittkop

Description

For more than three decades, Lucien - one of the most notorious characters in the history of the novel - has haunted the imaginations of readers around the world. This, the first English translation of Wittkop's notorious novel, introduces English readers to a masterpiece of French literature. Like the best writings of Edgar Allen Poe or Baudelaire, Wittkop's prose goes far beyond gothic horror to explore the melancholy of the loneliest depths of the human condition, forcing readers to confront their own mortality with an unprecedented intimacy.

Informations

• Publié par: Ecw Press
• Date de parution: 01 mai 2011
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781554909438
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

the Necrophiliac

gabrielle wittkop Translated from the French by don bapst

the N ECROPHILIAC

the N ECROPHILIAC le ( N ÉCROPHILE )

GABRIELLE WITTKOP Translated from the French by DON BAPST

ECW Press

Copyright © Editions Gallimard, 2005 Translation Copyright © Don Bapst, 2011

Published by ECW Press 2120 Queen Street East, Suite 200,Toronto, Ontario, Canadam4e1e2 416.694.3348 / [e-mail]

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any process — electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise — without the prior written permission of the copyrightowners and ECW Press. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

library and archives canada cataloguing in publication

Wittkop, Gabrielle, 1920–2002 The necrophiliac / Gabrielle Wittkop ; translated by Don Bapst.

Translation of: Le nécrophile. isbn978-1-55490-943-8

i. Bapst, Donii. Title.

pq2683.i82n843'.914413 2011

c2010-906687-1

Developing editor: Michael Holmes / a misFit book Cover and Text Design: Tania Craan Typesetting: Rachel Ironstone Production: Troy Cunningham

This book has been supported by the French Ministry of Foreign and European Affairs, as part of the translation grant program.

To the memory of C.D., who fell into death like Narcissus into his own image.

The Necrophiliac W October 12, 19... The grey eyelashes of this little girl cast a grey shadow against her cheek. She has the sly, ironic smile of those who know a lot. Two uncurled locks frame her face, descending to the hem of her blouse, which has been pulled up under her armpits to reveal a stomach of the same bluish white seen in certain Chinese porcelain. The mound of Venus, very flat, very smooth, shines slightly in the lamplight; it seems to be covered in a film of sweat. I spread the thighs to study the vulva, thin as a scar, the transparent lips a pale mauve. But I still have to wait a few hours; for the moment, the whole body is still a bit stiff, a bit clenched, until the heat of the room softens it like wax. This little girl is worth the trouble. It’s truly a very beautiful dead girl.

October 13, 19... Yesterday evening, the little girl played a mean trick on me. I should have been more careful of her with that smile of hers. While I was sliding

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Gabrielle Wittkop W into that flesh so cold, so soft, so deliciously tight, found only in the dead, the child abruptly opened an eye, translucent like that of an octopus,andwithaterrifyinggurgling,she threw up a black stream of mysterious liquid on me. Open in a Gorgon mask, her mouth didn’t stop vomiting this juice until its odour filled the room. All this rather spoiled my pleasure. I’m accustomed to better manners, for the dead are tidy. They have already released their excrement in leaving life as one disposes of an ignominious burden. Also, their bellies resoundwiththehard,hollowsoundofdrums. Their fine powerful odour is that of the bombyx. It seems to come from the heart of the earth, from the empire where the musky larvae trudge between the roots, where blades of mica gleam like frozen silver, there where the blood of futurechrysanthemumswellsup,amongthe dusty peat, the sulphureous mire. The smell of the dead is that of the return to the cosmos, that of the sublime alchemy. For nothing is as flawless as a corpse, and it becomes more and more so as

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