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Gentlemen Callers (French Literature) - Softcover

Hoex, Corinne

 
9781628973686: Gentlemen Callers (French Literature)

Inhaltsangabe

Every night when she goes to sleep, a woman dreams of erotic encounters with different men. She dreams of being the sponge squeezed to foaming in a gas station attendant's hand, and of twining her bare skin with a sea lion's thick pelt under the watchful eye of the sea lion trainer. From a gas station attendant to a sea lion trainer, a watchmaker to a teacher, a furrier to an astrologer, each evening's new encounter is more sensual and extravagant than the last.

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Über die Autorinnen und Autoren

Corinne Hoex (b. 1946) is an award-winning contemporary Belgian writer and member of the Royal Academy of French Language and Literature of Belgium. She has, to date, published eight works of fiction and prose and over twenty works of poetry. Hoex has won several literary prizes, including the 2013 Prix Félix Denayer in recognition of her collection of work. She currently lives in Brussels.

Caitlin O'Neil has a master’s degree in French linguistics from The University of Texas at Austin. She is based in Minneapolis, where she is a publicist and copy editor. Gentlemen Callers is her first book-length translation.

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The Gas Station Attendant

He was simple in his dress, meticulously clean, and smelt of primrose soap. ―Anatole France, Little Pierre

Tonight, I dreamed of my gas station attendant. He’d fallen for me, and he was lathering my car. I was sitting behind the steering wheel, and he, outside, was rubbing in wide arcs. His sponge foamed, foamed, and with this foam, he covered the roof, the doors, the windows.

I could no longer see anything. I was cut off from the world. All around me, I felt the hands of my attendant rubbing and rubbing their soapy sponge over the body of the car.

Suddenly, my attendant was next to me on the seat. We were both hidden from sight, sheltered under the thick white foam.

The other vehicles were honking, honking, waiting behind us in line for the pump. But the attendant and I were invisible. And I liked the scent of the soap on his wet hands.

I dreamed of my attendant, and nothing will ever be the same. When I saw him this morning at the gas station and he asked me, “Want me to clean your windshield?” I had such a brutal desire to be a sponge, a sponge in his hand, and I felt the shock of the icy water in the pail where he plunged me before stroking me over the window.

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