Scrapiron Blues
by Dambudzo Marechera
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A collection of Marechera's last writings which evoke city life and its many disparate facets - from the glittering fashion shops to the tramps in back alleys. What at first sight often seems peaceful and harmless, is suddenly disrupted by flashes of madness for, in Marechera's universe, everyday life is always haunted by the nightmare of Zimbabwe's past.Tags
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A few short passages from Scrapiron Blues:
So much time to kill. So little time in which to kill it.
I have a lot of time to kill. And I don’t want to kill it. I want to drag it all into full consciousness. Make it live. Maybe that’s what makes me, forces me to write. Can’t just sit around listening to the little sounds of my hair going grey.
Money, the way it comes and goes, at once terrifying and pitifully elusive.
It’s nice to hate everything and enjoy the details.
…O a sorrow of flowers stench pit of yesterday’s aerosol silence of bullets straight ahead do I remain when character is clawed out by chance circumstance by sleep or perpetual pleasure cruise on winelake cheescape lamb’s heart rainwords flapping maddened sailing show more ship into simpler lethal direction to know is not enough more is demanded than I ever borrowed each finger is king holding down a string of thought stroking ear and lip and life and delight this bracelet of firewords and my knuckleduster for night’s bright innuendoes…thinking thoughts that hurt.
Did it all come down to luck? To chance? To happenstance? If that is so then why, O Lord, WHY? Thinking of Huysman’s Against Nature and the futile attempt to shut out the ghastly realities of physical distress; descendant of Goncharov’s Oblomov, cousin of Dostoevsky’s fatal ennui. Himself worrying burnt-out thighs through the murky air of hope that there lurked some meaning beyond the shadowline of impossible intent. show less
So much time to kill. So little time in which to kill it.
I have a lot of time to kill. And I don’t want to kill it. I want to drag it all into full consciousness. Make it live. Maybe that’s what makes me, forces me to write. Can’t just sit around listening to the little sounds of my hair going grey.
Money, the way it comes and goes, at once terrifying and pitifully elusive.
It’s nice to hate everything and enjoy the details.
…O a sorrow of flowers stench pit of yesterday’s aerosol silence of bullets straight ahead do I remain when character is clawed out by chance circumstance by sleep or perpetual pleasure cruise on winelake cheescape lamb’s heart rainwords flapping maddened sailing show more ship into simpler lethal direction to know is not enough more is demanded than I ever borrowed each finger is king holding down a string of thought stroking ear and lip and life and delight this bracelet of firewords and my knuckleduster for night’s bright innuendoes…thinking thoughts that hurt.
Did it all come down to luck? To chance? To happenstance? If that is so then why, O Lord, WHY? Thinking of Huysman’s Against Nature and the futile attempt to shut out the ghastly realities of physical distress; descendant of Goncharov’s Oblomov, cousin of Dostoevsky’s fatal ennui. Himself worrying burnt-out thighs through the murky air of hope that there lurked some meaning beyond the shadowline of impossible intent. show less
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9+ Works 406 Members
The writings of this precocious but short-lived literary talent from Zimbabwe have been described as "the work of a tortured genius." His work reflects a passionate concern for Zimbabwe and Africa in general, and brilliantly combines elements of realism and fantasy. His writing is very introspective, with a keen interest in exploring the inner show more workings of his protagonists. He does not romanticize the African past nor glorify the African personality. Yet, while his work does not seem preoccupied with inequities in African society, it does display a deep disillusionment and cynicism. An element of resignation reveals, on closer examination, an attempt to hide the sensitivity of his characters, whose behavior can be seen as a defense mechanism against the chaos, senselessness, and brutality of life. Marechera's first published work, "The House of Hunger" (1979), received the 1979 Guardian Prize for Fiction, while his posthumously published collection of writings, "The Black Insider and Other Fragments," was selected for honorable mention by the 1991 Noma Award Committee. In addition to "The House of Hunger," Marechera also published "Black Sunlight" before his untimely death in 1987. (Bowker Author Biography) show less
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- Canonical title
- Scrapiron Blues
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- 17
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- Reviews
- 1
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- (4.20)
- Languages
- English
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- Paper
- ISBNs
- 3
