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Ik zal spuwen op jullie graf de Boris Vian
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Ik zal spuwen op jullie graf (edició 1979)

de Boris Vian

MembresRessenyesPopularitatValoració mitjanaMencions
8721818,949 (3.51)8
Fiction. In the tradition of Karl May and Franz Kafka, Boris Vian imagines an America even more amazing than the land he has never visited. I SPIT ON YOUR GRAVES is the first novel to put the quotation marks around the hardboiled thriller--a vivid and startling performance (J. Hoberman). The book is Boris Vian's (1920-1959) sex-and-violence-filled homage to American noir. Originally published in France as J'IRAI CRACHER SUR VOS TOMBES--after allegedly being censored in the U.S. and translated into French--the novel was a best seller, establishing Vian as one of the most famous writers of the mid-twentieth century.… (més)
Membre:jkd4
Títol:Ik zal spuwen op jullie graf
Autors:Boris Vian
Informació:Amsterdam, De Arbeiderspers, vierde druk
Col·leccions:La teva biblioteca
Valoració:****
Etiquetes:misdaad

Detalls de l'obra

Cuspirei sobre as vosas tumbas de Boris Vian

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» Mira també 8 mencions

Anglès (11)  Francès (4)  Italià (2)  Castellà (1)  Totes les llengües (18)
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Rapide et facile à lire. Page Turner. Très bien. ( )
  ours57 | Mar 31, 2021 |
> Lee Anderson, vingt-six ans, a quitté sa ville natale pour échouer à Buckton où il devient gérant de librairie. Il sympathise dans un bar avec quelques jeunes du coin. Grand, bien bâti, payant volontiers à boire, Lee, qui sait aussi chanter le blues en s'accompagnant à la guitare, réussit à séduire la plupart des adolescentes. Un jour il rencontre Dexter, le rejeton d'une riche famille qui l'invite à une soirée et lui présente les soeurs Asquith, Jean et Lou (17 et 15 ans), deux jeunes bourgeoises avec "une ligne à réveiller un membre du Congrès". Lee décide de les faire boire pour mieux les séduire... et poursuivre son sinistre dessein.
Ecrit à la suite d'un pari, cet excellent pastiche de roman noir fut publié en 1946 sous le pseudonyme de Vernon Sullivan, un prétendu auteur américain. Récit d'une vengeance, dénonciation du racisme et de l'intolérance, ce best-seller fut jugé à l'époque immoral et pornographique, ce qui amena son interdiction en 1949 et la condamnation de son auteur pour outrage aux bonnes moeurs. --Claude Mesplède, Amazon.fr

> Par Adrian (Laculturegenerale.com) : Les 150 classiques de la littérature française qu’il faut avoir lus !
07/05/2017 - Violence, sexualité…Le pastiche de roman noir américain de Vernon Sullivan, alias Boris Vian, fait scandale, même s’il est avant tout un puissant pamphlet contre le racisme !
  Joop-le-philosophe | Jan 27, 2019 |
O que mais salta aos olhos aqui é o fato deste livro ter vindo do mesmo autor de L'Écume des jours, que são basicamente extremos opostos. Como nada me choca depois de ter lido as notícias sobre misoginia e racismo em qualquer jornal diário, certamente não são os terríveis acontecimentos ficticios desse livro que irão me chocar, mesmo porque nunca havia visto em livro toda a escrotidão perversa do ser humano de uma forma tão realista. É isso, folks, esse é o ser humano. ( )
  Adriana_Scarpin | Jun 12, 2018 |
J'irai cracher sur vos tombes was written essentially as a prank, to provoke a reaction from the conservative establishment. Vian dashed it off in a fortnight in summer 1946, at the suggestion of a publisher acquaintance who was looking for something along the lines of Tropic of Cancer. The provocation was a bit too successful: the book caused the necessary scandal and became an overnight bestseller, but was attacked in court by a self-appointed guardian of public morals, starting a complicated series of legal actions that ultimately cost Vian and his publisher a great deal of time and money. As originally published, the book claimed to be a translation of a work by a black American writer, "Vernon Sullivan", who had not been able to get his work printed in the prejudiced USA. (This subterfuge led to the absurd situation that at one point during the court cases, Vian was producing evidence to try to show that the book was not his own work, whilst a year or two later he found himself having to prove exactly the opposite.)

So, it's an amusing little bit of literary history, but is there any more to it than that? Not a lot, really. It's fast-moving and cleverly written, but the subject-matter carefully sticks to the worst possible taste all the way through. The first-person narrator is Lee Anderson, a man who by an accident of genetics has a skin that is pale enough to let him "pass", but otherwise benefits from all the traditional advantages of the black male (deep voice, boxer's shoulders, innate ability to play tennis and the Blues, irresistible sex-appeal and a very large you-know-what). Working as a bookshop manager in a town where no-one knows his background, he's able to devote his spare time to having varied and entertaining sex with all the bobbysoxers who hang out at the drugstore (the boys lust after him as well, but he ignores them).

This small-town idyll occupies about half the book, then Anderson meets two rich and beautiful sisters from the next town and sees his great opportunity to get revenge on the white race for what they did to his brother, leading to some marginally more grown-up sex scenes and an extended road-movie section and Grand Guignol finale.

Something that struck me about the book was that the action, whether it's sex or car-chases, is never interrupted by trivialities. The picnics are free of wasps and poison-ivy, no parents or small siblings intrude into the parties, no zip ever gets stuck or shoelace knotted, there are no traffic cops to upset the speeding and drunken driving (until the final chapter when the plot needs them), and no-one ever worries about condoms. This looks to me like a strong indication that we're dealing with pornographic fantasy rather than literature, although I know that the French and Americans are nowhere near as obsessed with bathos as the British.

By today's standards the actual content of the sex scenes probably isn't all that shocking, but it's not very pleasant to read a long string of first-person descriptions of encounters that a less subjective narrator would probably consider to fit the definition of rape, not to mention a couple of violent killings. The get-out clause is that Anderson's (and presumably Sullivan's) experience of racism has twisted his moral perspective completely out of joint, but I'm not confident that that really flies, especially when you have to deal with all the complexities of a white Frenchman pretending to be a black American pretending to be a black American pretending to be a white American. There's definitely racism in there somewhere. ( )
2 vota thorold | Mar 18, 2016 |
Un roman qui peut être choquant pour certains lecteurs mais qui est à coup sûr, un très bon divertissement. ( )
  Patate21 | Dec 12, 2014 |
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Nom de l'autorCàrrecTipus d'autorObra?Estat
Vian, Borisautor primaritotes les edicionsconfirmat
Sullivan, Vernonautor principaltotes les edicionsconfirmat
Alcover, JuanTraductorautor secundarialgunes edicionsconfirmat
Del Re, StefanoTraductorautor secundarialgunes edicionsconfirmat
Johansson, HansTraductorautor secundarialgunes edicionsconfirmat
Martí Garcés, JordiTraductorautor secundarialgunes edicionsconfirmat
Rózsa, LászlóTraductorautor secundarialgunes edicionsconfirmat
Soest, Gerbrand vanTraductorautor secundarialgunes edicionsconfirmat
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Il me recommanda de ne pas négliger mes devoirs religieux. Ça, c'était une chose dont j'avais pu me débarrasser, mais je m'arrangeais pour qu'on ne s'en aperçoive pas plus que du reste (...) je crois qu'on ne peut pas rester lucide et croire en Dieu, et il fallait que je sois lucide.
-Je veux brûler la maison, Lee. Notre père l'avait construite. Nous lui devons tout ce que nous sommes. C'était presque un Blanc, pour la couleur, Lee. Mais, souviens-toi qu'il n'a jamais songé à renier sa race. Notre frère est mort et personne ne doit poséder la maison que notre père avait construite de ses deux mains de nègre.
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Fiction. In the tradition of Karl May and Franz Kafka, Boris Vian imagines an America even more amazing than the land he has never visited. I SPIT ON YOUR GRAVES is the first novel to put the quotation marks around the hardboiled thriller--a vivid and startling performance (J. Hoberman). The book is Boris Vian's (1920-1959) sex-and-violence-filled homage to American noir. Originally published in France as J'IRAI CRACHER SUR VOS TOMBES--after allegedly being censored in the U.S. and translated into French--the novel was a best seller, establishing Vian as one of the most famous writers of the mid-twentieth century.

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