Patrick McCabe - The Butcher Boy

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The Butcher Boy: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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SHORTLISTED FOR THE 1992 BOOKER PRIZE
WINNER OF THE IRISH TIMES-AER LINGUS
LITERATURE PRIZE FOR FICTION
"BRILLIANT, UNIQUE. Patrick McCabe pushes your head through the book and you come out the other end gasping, admiring, and knowing that reading fiction will never be the same again. It's the best Irish novel I've read in years." – Roddy Doyle, Author, Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha
"STUNNING… PART HUCK FINN, PART HOLDEN CAULFIELD, PART HANNIBAL LECTER." – The New York Times Book Review
"AN ALMOST PERFECT NOVEL… A BECKETT MONOLOGUE WITH PLOT BY ALFRED HITCHCOCK… STARTLINGLY ORIGINAL." – The Washington Post Book World
"BRILLIANT… Francie is a shrewd and amusing observer… his voice is mordant, colloquial and brash as a punch in the nose." – Scott Turow
"A ROLLICKING NASTY NOVEL." – The Village Voice
"There are a number of fine novels about violent youth, and Patrick McCabe's frightening and sorrowful The Butcher Boy stands up to any of them… Francie portrays himself in every word he utters, and his language gives Patrick McCabe's The Butcher Boy its valuable dread power." – The Atlanta Journal Constitution
"A CHILLING TALE OF A CHILD'S HELL… OFTEN SCREAMINGLY FUNNY… THE BOOK HAS A COMPELLING AND TERRIBLE BEAUTY." – The Boston Globe
"A tour de force." – Kirkus Reviews
"IT'S AS BRIGHT AS IT IS DEPRESSING, AS FUNNY AS IT IS GRUESOME. We see Francie clearly as psychopath, and we ache with sympathy for him. It's almost impossible to pinpoint the moment in his growing up when the imagination of an ordinary boy shades over into something dangerously loony. The key is Francie's slangy, angry, '60s-flavored voice, which McCabe renders with a minimum of punctuation and a maximum of control." – Los Angeles Times Book Review
"AN UNRELENTING, UPBEAT STREAM OF PATTER. McCabe's acclaimed third novel… walks the path of dementia with remarkable assurance." – Entertainment Weekly
"McCABE'S FRANCIE SPEAKS IN A RICH VERNACULAR SPIRITED BY THE BRASSY AND ENDEARING RHYTHMS OF PERPETUAL DELINQUENCY; even in his gradual unhinging, Francie remains a winning raconteur. By looking so deeply into Francie's soul, McCabe subtly suggests a common source of political and personal violence – lack of love and hope." – Publishers Weekly
"PATRICK McCABE IS AN OUTSTANDING WRITER. The Butcher Boy is fearful, original, compelling and very hard to put out of your mind. American readers should pay close attention to this man." – Thomas McGuane
"A BRILLIANT BOOK SO VERY FUNNY AS WELL AS BEING HEARTRENDINGLY SAD." – J. P. Donleavy
"Written with wonderful assurance and a technical skill that is as great as it is unobtrusive… Perhaps the novel is best read as a twisted coming-of-age story; imagine Huck Finn crossed with Charlie Starkweather, and you have Francie Brady, the young narrator of The Butcher Boy." – The Washington Post Book World
"A POTENT AMALGAM OF COMEDY, HORROR AND PATHOS… The Butcher Boy is a prime slice of modern Gothic… McCabe presents a study in spiritual derangement that rivets." – The Sunday Times (London)
"DEADLY SERIOUS, TERRIFICALLY LOONY AND SCARY, AND ABSOLUTELY HILARIOUS… Francie Brady's story is reminiscent of Samuel Beckett's Molloy, Moran, Malone, and the Unnameable even, with Anthony Burgess's Alex tossed in for good measure." – James McManus
"THE MOST ASTONISHING IRISH NOVEL FOR MANY YEARS, A MASTERPIECE." – Sunday Independent
"A POWERFUL AND DEEPLY SHOCKING NOVEL where the seemingly innocent logic of a child imperceptibly turns into the manic logic of an unhinged mind. Patrick McCabe portrays 1960s small-town life from a bizarre perspective where the aliens from Outer Space on the television are as real as the emotional poverty of one child filled with unconscious envy for another." – Dermont Bolger

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But I didn't bother with that, instead I went over to the pen and caught another fellow by the trotters he was even younger than the first. He was in a bad way altogether for he'd seen the whole thing. His eyes, please please don't kill me I'll do anything! What about this lad I said, he's a chancy-looking customer. Give me the pistol there Mr Leddy and I'll put a bit of manners on him. Leddy stood back with his hand on his hip and laughed. You're a good one Brady if you think I'll fall for that he says. But fair fucks to you for trying. You've a while to do here yet before you'll be able to face the like of that ha ha. Ah no, I says, Mr Leddy, not at all. It wouldn't be fair on this little fellow to leave him all alone now that his poor old friend is gone. So give me over the gun now and we'll see what we can do for him. You must think I came up the Shannon in a bubble laughs Leddy. I heard about your carry-on he says but you won't put one over on Jimmy Leddy. I was in Bangkok he says when Benny Brady hadn't even plucked your mother. I didn't like him saying that I didn't like it one bit watch what you're saying about my mother Leddy but I had promised da so I said nothing about it I just said I know, you've seen it all, you've been all over the world but let me have a look at it anyway. The piglet wouldn't sit at rest, twisting and wriggling please Francie Francie please let me go. He hands me the pistol, here he says have a look at it but be careful, I says don't worry Mr Leddy. I looked at it for a while there wasn't much to it the baby pig was still looking up at me with the ear flapping over one eye please Francie? Well any other time I would have let him down or put him back in but I wanted Leddy to take me on straight away and I had things to buy for the house and everything so I just shrugged and I don't know what all Leddy's huffing and puffing was about. One squeal and a buck as the bolt went in and I just threw him down on the floor beside the other fellow. Leddy was rubbing his tattoo, biting his lip and staring at me. Behind him a row of pigs in muslin shirts. And a lump of a cow on a table with ribs like a half-built boat. Just you and me get one thing straight he says as I handed the pistol back to him. Then he stared me out of it and said: You'll do what I tell you, Brady.

Whatever you say Captain Pig I said. No I didn't I said can I start now Mr Leddy?

Be in here nine o'clock tomorrow he says and eyes me up and down still rubbing the tattoo. Good luck now Mr Leddy I said and kick started in the air whee hoo away off like the clappers down the street. I was well and truly in charge now. I felt good. I've got a job da I said. Fair play to you, son, he said, I knew you were a good one. I was in business now I thought. I felt like I owned the whole town.

I met the women and I said did you hear did you hear I got a job in Leddy's! They said it was great news. Indeed it is ladies, I said, wait till you see one of these days I'll be changing my name to Mr Algernon Carruthers Brady. They didn't know what I was talking about but they laughed anyway. Oh now they says, you're an awful character, Mr Algernon Carruthers Brady! Did you ever hear the like of it!

There you are now ladies, I said, can't stop to talk have to be off now I don't know what end of me's up with all the things I have to do.

You'll be a busy man from now on with all this working, they said.

I sure will, I said, but you know yourselves it has to be done!

And you're the man to do it Francie!

Now you have it ladies – its all up to me now!

Goodbye now Francie and the three hands waving like leaves in the breeze.

Every day I'd collect my brock cart from the farmyard and off I'd go round the houses and hotels gathering scraps of potato skins and rotten food. Brock they called that and Francie the brock man collected it. When Leddy wasn't there I said to the swinging pigs: OK Porky its the end of the road. Then I'd say blam! and take the fat head off them with the captive bolt pistol. Take 'em to Missouri men, I'd shout. O please don't kill me I'm too fat to run away! Too bad, Piggy! Blam! Pinky and Perky – eat lead! Next thing what does Leddy say only you're not the worst of them you can give me a hand behind the counter in the shop. So there you are! The way things turn out! Francie Brady The Butcher Boy! Oho but this time it was different, this old Butcher Boy was happy as Larry and you wouldn't find him letting people down, no sir! Now, there you are missus! There's just over a pound and a half there is that all right? Oh yes that's fine Francis thank you very much. The next thing then was the deliveries, off I'd go on my messenger bike with J. Leddy Victualler painted on the side. Away off out the mountains and the bogs and the country lanes ting-a-ling here he comes The Butcher Boy whistling away in his stripey blue apron always in good humour. Not a bad day now, ma'am. Not too bad Francie thank God. Hello there you old bogman I mean Mr Farmer. Have you got the hay in yet? You're hard at it! Indeed I am!

Goodbye now! Ting-a-ling! Whistle whistle bark bark – clear off dog! Morning guv! Same again next week? Wot's that then? Two pounds of pork chops, a couple of kidneys and a sirloin roast. Oh and a couple of bones for Bonzo! No problem no problem at all guv! Ta-ra then!

And off he goes bump bump bump. Cor strike a light darlin' I says to this woman hanging out her washing.

She screws up her face: Eh? she says.

There you are again, Francie, Lord bless us you're all over the place! the women'd say. Indeed I am I'd say and twirl the meat parcels across the marble top.

There you are says the amazing Father Dom sorry father can't stop to talk it was a different story now I reckoned with all these jobs I was important now and I had no time to waste gossiping. But especially to the likes of Roche who stopped me one day with the black bag and just stands there looking at me, out of nowhere again of course. Look Roche, I wanted to say to him, if you want to spoil things go off and spoil them on somebody else. I'm a busy man and I have things to do. I'm in charge and I have no time for fooling about and talking shite to the likes of you so go on now about your business and leave people to do their work in peace. That was what I wanted to say to black eyebrows Roche.

I was fed up of him and everything to do with him and I'd tell him that too. But I didn't and what the fuck does he do then only come over and I got a big red face on me I don't know why he just stands there. I heard you were working for Leddy.

I am, I says, what's wrong with that?

I'm not saying there's anything wrong with it I'm only asking he said.

I wanted to say: Well don't ask Roche, Don't ask!

Do you like it down there he says, twirl twirl the timer on his watch.

Yes I says, ten bob a week.

And what do you do with that?

I knew he was trying to trick me into saying I buy bottles of stout for da so I said: I put it in the post office Doctor.

Very wise he says.

Hmm.

What I wanted to talk to you about was your father – he was supposed to come up and see me and he never did.

O I says, was he?

Will you tell him to drop in this evening maybe or tomorrow?

Oh I will I says, I'll tell him that.

You won't forget?

No, I says. I won't and then he says it again you won't forget and I could see him looking me up and down the worst thing about that is you start thinking ah there's nothing no sweat on my forehead and that's what makes the sweat come. There was beads on my forehead. I could feel them and the more I felt them the bigger they got they felt as big as berries and that was what made me blurt out O no doctor I forgot he's gone over to England to visit Uncle Alo.

What? he says and frowns, he's what?

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