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Eliza Clark

Boy Parts

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‘Hallucinogenic, electric and sharp, Boy Parts is a whirlwind exploration of gender, class and power.’
— Jessica Andrews

Irina obsessively takes explicit photographs of the average-looking men she persuades to model for her, scouted from the streets of Newcastle.
Placed on sabbatical from her dead-end bar job, she is offered an exhibition at a fashionable London gallery, promising to revive her career in the art world and offering an escape from her rut of drugs, alcohol, and extreme cinema. The news triggers a self-destructive tailspin, centred around Irina’s relationship with her obsessive best-friend, and a shy young man from her local supermarket who has attracted her attention….
Boy Parts is the incendiary debut novel from Eliza Clark, a pitch-black comedy both shocking and hilarious, fearlessly exploring the taboo regions of sexuality and gender roles in the twenty-first century.
Тази книга не е налична в момента
271 печатни страници
Оригинална публикация
2020
Година на публикуване
2020
Вече чели ли сте я? Какво мислите за нея?
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Впечатления

  • CrushedUnderAStackOfBooksсподели впечатлениепреди 3 дни

    Interesting 3/5

  • Diana Catсподели впечатлениепреди 2 години
    👍Струва си да се прочете
    💀Страшничко
    🔮Дълбока вода
    💡Научих много
    🎯Струва си
    🌴Книга за плажа
    🚀Не мога да я затворя
    😄LOLZ

  • maruușkiсподели впечатлениепреди 3 години
    🌴Книга за плажа

Цитати

  • Jelena Ranđelovićцитираонзи ден
    Is that what they call hard work nowadays? Fetish art.’
  • CrushedUnderAStackOfBooksцитирапреди 3 дни
    wondering if my simple Hobbit songs are good enough for these grand halls and their talking toilets.
  • CrushedUnderAStackOfBooksцитирапреди 3 дни
    I look at the photos again, the ones I didn’t delete. I look at his purple face, his bloody chin and nipple, his swollen cheeks. I wonder what the fuck I have to do for people to recognise me as a threat, you know? It’s like… am I even doing this shit? Have I even fucking done anything?

    Like, do I have to snap the wine bottle inside him to get him to stop sending me sad emails? Do I have to cut his nipple off for him to realise he should probably ring the police? Do I have to cave his head in with my camera, rather than hit him the once? Do I have to crash his car? Do I have to smash a glass over the head of every single man I come into contact with, just so I leave a fucking mark?

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