Ink in the Blood

Ink in the Blood


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Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781910213117
Publisher: Dedalus, Limited
Publication date: 06/30/2016
Series: Dedalus Euro Shorts Series
Pages: 77
Product dimensions: 4.90(w) x 7.60(h) x 0.30(d)

About the Author

Born in France in 1975, Stéphanie Hochet studied English and graduated with a thesis on Elizabethan theatre. She is one of the leading novelists of the younger generation with a very individual style.

She was awarded the Prix Lilas for Combat de l'amour et de la faim in 2009 and the Prix Thyde Monnier for La Distribution des Lumieres in 2010.

Ink in the Blood was published in France in 2013.

Mike Mitchell has published over seventy translations from German and French. His translation of Rosendorfer's Letters Back to Ancient China won the 1998 Schlegel-Tieck Translation Prize after he had been shortlisted previously for his translations of Stephanie and The Golem.

His translations have been shortlisted four times for The Oxford Weidenfeld Translation Prize: Simplicissimus by Johann Grimmelshausen in 1999, The Other Side by Alfred Kubin in 2000, The Bells of Bruges by Georges Rodenbach in 2008 and the Lairds of Cromarty by Jean Pierre Ohl in 2013.

Read an Excerpt

Fads and fashions: a tribal bracelet, stars, surnames (Beckham, Scarface, Soprano�)Chinese characters on your neck � avoid the neck if it�s your first time.Guns: liner, shader, magnum. A noisy or a silent machine. Ink. The quality of the blacks. Pure pigments, dense black, its scarcity justifying the price. Ink capsules. Gloves. Dettol, alcohol. Cellophane.On your stomach, feeling like being sick.Your ribs are so sensitive you can�t think. Ankle, collar-bone, solar plexus, elbows and armpits: unforgettable pain. The feeling that a fingernail is scratching you, slowly. The burning sensation brings to mind a well-known, stainless-steel instrument with a precise cutting edge: the scalpel� The most painful part is filling in, colouring the space between two lines dot by dot. It is advisable not to have it done on an empty stomach.

I�d never stopped thinking about it. For twenty years at least. The temptation had grown stronger with the years. The taboo surrounding it had not lessened its attraction, on the contrary. Without this taboo on the part of the family I would have given up the idea fairly quickly and turned to something else. It wouldn�t have been worth wasting my time over it. The taboo gave substance to the fantasy.At fifteen I was thinking of totemic emblems, wolf jaws, clan symbols. I dreamt of being the leader of a gang, of a political party. Ideologies gave me a thrill: power, yes, that was what it was about. At that time I felt totally detached from everything. That year I�d been in hospital with a serious illness. Shut up in a room for months on end, my thoughts just went round and round inside my head. That was when I started drawing. The pages in my notebooks were covered with weapons, crosses. Crosses that weren�t Christian symbols.I got better, I was no longer the boy obsessed with the idea of being a leader, with war and theories claiming to justify it. Getting better was not just a physical matter.I turned my back on the thrill of conflict but I retained my taste for crosses and tattoos. It is a taste I will never lose. If one can ever say never.I was sure that one day I would give in. It would have the symbolic force of military service, losing your virginity, marriage and death. In certain civilisations being given a tattoo is a rite of passage for young people reaching adulthood. Being behind schedule with my biological clock, I had not yet come to a final decision. Have it done, yes,

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