Fiction of Gay Interest

A Life Full of Holes
Driss Ben Hamed Charhadi
tape-recorded by Paul Bowles
Publisher: Panther
London, UK

Year


1966        first publ: 1966
Cover / size: paperback / h 17.7 cm * w 11.1 cm / 223 pp

Dustjacket?   n/a

ISBN: n/a

Arbery Ref:   000511

Condition Fair to Good

Cover: worn, particularly at edges and spine, remains of sticker and tape. Page edges dusty and mottled. Book leans forward slightly. Endpapers mottled and with ink markings. Pages severely browned but otherwise clean.

Price £4.00
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Charhadi: A Life Full Of Holes

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Plot / Content:                              Rating: g

"Stark in its realism, often shocking in its depiction of scenes of appalling squalor and brutality, A Life Full Of Holes describes the adventures of a young Moroccan living in North Africa: how he is robbed, cheated, starved, gaoled, beaten, poisoned. Burningly and compassionately alive, this is a fiercely impressive novel that demands to be read.

(from the cover)

The last section of the novel focuses on the time Ahmed spent working for two Frenchmen and the emotional upheavals that resulted when the Nazarenes (Christians) became involved with other young Moroccan men.



Background / Biography:

According to Wikipedia, Driss ben Hamed Charhadi (1937-1986) was the pseudonym for Larbi Layachi.

Paul Frederic Bowles (December 30, 1910 – November 18, 1999) was an American expatriate composer, author, and translator. continued on Wikipedia




Reviews:

"Beautifully constructed" New Statesman

(from the cover)







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"Soon the Nazarenes were blowing the horn of the car. They wanted me to open the door for them.

I went and opened it.

They said: Here's the friend who invited us to his house that day.

The boy was tall. He had dark skin. He came in with his hands in his pockets. He took out one hand and I shook it. How are you?

His trousers were very tight over his legs. He had a white shirt, but the collar was almost black with dirt.

I said to Marcel: Lunch is ready. They sat down at the table in the dining room. I went out to the carpenter shop and called Farid. He came in. We all sat down together. And while we were eating, I was looking at the one the Nazarenes had invited.

I was thinking: It's impossible. That one invited them to his house? The sandals he has on his feet aren't worth fifty francs. He invited them? Never!

And François was always touching him on the shoulder and saying: What a good friend he is, this Omar."


pp 189 - 190




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