A Cup of Rage (Penguin Modern Classics) by Raduan Nassar

By Raduan Nassar

'Yes, bastard, you're the single I love'

A pair of enthusiasts - a tender girl journalist and an older guy who owns an remoted farm within the Brazilian outback - spend the evening jointly. the following day they continue to ruin one another. Amid vitriolic insults, cruelty and warring egos, their sexual event becomes a savage strength video game. This severe, erotic cult novel by means of one in every of Brazil's so much notorious modernist writers explores alienation, the will to dominate and the desire to be ruled.

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Extra info for A Cup of Rage (Penguin Modern Classics)

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If it is your pants? Did you piss them? Are you This afraid, I can hack to turn the mountain, back into the valley. slept even, crashing a biscuit from Tommy boy? shit is all a big happening, found a creek and decided I down shit Just run. movie. It isn't can hack it. " At night a packet of "C's," felt stuffed I moved out again. Dawn. The creek got it. around and go back by it, hid, I ate and cau- tiously Two bigger and fed into a small river. gooks in black pajamas picked me up and started firing The Pugilist 52 from hundred meters.

Rhythm trouble behind Everyone laughed and Mason shrugged his shoulders. " out the large orange "weekly" malaria "daily" ones. Then he all pills He began handing and the little white started passing out salt tablets. I The Pugilist 38 at Rest stepped outside and swallowed mine with a half can of Budweiser and then the birds came clamped in. I my hand top of my bush hat and ran for the chopper, hopped inside and sat back hoping the speed would kick in The fear. last, faster than the dipped away from the base, and up the lush green vegetation of the country- — royal palms, banana stalks, and much In the cool of the chopper, looking down, better, on slick lifted off, started picking side flat you would have thought you were Baggit sat next to me and if in paradise, not hell.

Singh could get the "hot" stuff quicker and in a less dirty way than anyone. If the prisoner did well, gave us something good, Singh would give him a Marlboro cigarette smoke before he turned him over spooks in to the to Da Nang with their Sodium Penthothal, tape recorders, and polygraph machines. Our last Singh hauled out a front teeth down they dragged him sit prisoner had given good but not until rat-tail file to the him out in the dirt line. After a three-hour session of the shack with shit in his pants and and smoke truck came along to take little gum and ground the prisoner's lower him a half let pack of Marlboros before a Da Nang.

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