Evgénie Sokolov

WHILE IN PROVENCE LAST SUMMER I TOOK THE TIME TO VISIT A COUPLE OF JUNK SHOPS AND BARGAIN SPOTS IN THE HOPES OF FINDING A GOOD PAIR OR TWO OF ESPADRILLES. I CAME ACROSS THESE BEAUTIES.



Now to read the book!
"Like the songs he penned for Brigitte Bardot, Jane Birkin, and himself, this novelette by French singer/provocateur Serge Gainsbourg (who died in 1991) is infantile, shockingly frank, and extremely clever. First published in 1980 but previously unavailable in English, Evguenie Sokolov is the fictional autobiography of the uncontrollably flatulent title character, an artist who makes his distinctive drawings ("gasograms") by letting his hand move while passing violent wind. Hiding his condition by publicly blaming the inevitable sounds and odors on his bulldog, and artificially inducing it when it mysteriously vanishes, Sokolov climbs to the pinnacle of art-world success before his untimely end. This is not a book for the easily nauseated, but there's more substance than the one-joke premise suggests. Gainsbourg's book is a scatological allegory for the dangers facing artist, like the author himself, who turn their own internal pathologies into public spectacle. -Franklin Bruno, CMJ: New Music Monthly (May 1999)"Gainsbourg is both the best and the worst, yin and yang, white and black. This Jewish little Prince from Russia whose dreams were probably fueled by Anderson, Perrault and Grimm, became, when confronted by the tragic reality of life, a moving repugnant Quasimodo, depending on his and your state of mind. Hidden deep within this fragile, shy and aggressive man lies the soul of a poet craving tenderness, truth and integrity