Black Bazaar

Finalist for the Man Booker International Prize 2015 Buttologist is down on his uppers. His girlfriend, Original Colour, has cleared out of their Paris studio and run off to the Congo with a vertically challenged drummer known as The Mongrel. She's taken their daughter with her. Meanwhile, a racist neighbour spies on him something wicked, accusing him of 'digging a hole in the Dole'. And his drinking buddies at Jips, the Afro-Cuban bar in Les Halles, pour scorn on Black Bazaar , the journal he keeps to log his sorrows. There are days when only the Arab in the corner shop has a kind word; while at night his dreams are stalked by the cannibal pygmies of Gabon. Then again, Buttologist wears no ordinary uppers. He has style , bags of it (suitcases of crocodile and anaconda Westons, to be precise). He's a dandy from the Bacongo district of Brazzaville - AKA a sapeur or member of the Society of Ambience-makers and People of Elegance. But is flaunting sartorial chic against tough times enough for Buttologist to cut it in the City of Light? I Black Bazar møter vi en hovedperson med sans for italienske dresser og designersko. Etter et opprivende kjærlighetsbrudd opplever han forfatterkallet og tegner litt etter litt et nådeløst portrett av verden og menneskene. Det utvikles et fantastisk persongalleri der hver enkelt blir tildelt et passende kallenavn etter sosial rang, hudfarge eller nasjonalitet. Her finnes ikke spor av høflighet, sømmelighet eller politisk korrekthet, men heller en krass og ofte underliggende humor båret frem med en stor dose selvironi. Alain Mabanckou har gitt ut en rekke romaner og diktsamlinger som er oversatt til mange språk. Han har mottatt flere litterære priser for sitt arbeid. Omtalen er utarbeidet av BS Buttocks Man is down on his uppers. His girlfriend, Original Colour, has cleared out of their Paris studio and run off to the Congo with a vertically challenged drummer known as The Mongrel. She's taken their daughter with her. Meanwhile, a racist neighbour spies on him something wicked, accusing him of 'digging a hole in the Dole'. And his drinking buddies at Jips, the Afro-Cuban bar in Les Halles, pour scorn on Black Bazaar, the journal he keeps to log his sorrows. There are days when only the Arab in the corner shop has a kind word; while at night his dreams are stalked by the cannibal pygm The Buttologist is on his uppers. His girlfriend has cleared out of their Paris studio and run off to the Congo with a vertically challenged drummer, taking their daughter with her. A racist neighbour is spying on him and stirring up trouble. But at least he knows he still has style