Murray Bail's Camouflage: Stories PDF

By Murray Bail

ISBN-10: 0312420870

ISBN-13: 9780312420871

From the “world-class Australian novelist” (The ny Times) comes a deft, angular, and hugely pleasing number of tales. “The Seduction of My Sister” tells of the more and more strange occasions among siblings whilst a brand new relations strikes in around the highway, whereas “Healing” remembers a vanished time while a boy’s headlong, blameless rush into sure catastrophe may be avoided via an easy miracle. a guy named Huebler comes to a decision to picture every body alive, and an unassuming piano-tuner is shipped to the heart of Australia in 1943 to give a contribution to the battle attempt. a charming, piquant assortment from a grasp of the craft.

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Camouflage: Stories by Murray Bail PDF

From the “world-class Australian novelist” (The manhattan occasions) comes a deft, angular, and hugely enjoyable number of tales. “The Seduction of My Sister” tells of the more and more strange occasions among siblings whilst a brand new relatives strikes in around the road, whereas “Healing” remembers a vanished time whilst a boy’s headlong, blameless rush into definite catastrophe might be prevented by means of an easy miracle.

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Qxd 4/13/04 2:10 PM Page 31 Oblivion 31 Appeal Matrix*, and the costs of reinforcing the Economy packaging or rendering the individual snack cakes visibly invulnerable to a thingauge hypodermic would push the products out so far right on the demand curve that mass-market snacks would become economically and emotionally untenable, corporate soft confections going thus the way of hitchhiking, unsupervised trick-or-treating, door-to-door sales, & c. At various intervals throughout the pre-GRDS presentation the limbic portions of Schmidt’s brain pursued this line of thinking — while in fact a whole other part of his mind surveyed these memories and fantasies and was simultaneously fascinated and repelled at the way in which all these thoughts and feelings could be entertained in total subjective private while Schmidt ran the Focus Group through its brief and supposedly Full-Access description of Mister Squishy’s place in the soft-confection industry and some of the travails of developing and marketing what these men were experiencing as Felonies!

C. That, as one example, just as Hostess Inc. B. F. in secret, with all the ingenious and piquant taglines that played against the moment the characters’ mutual embarrassment turned to laughter and a convolved esprit de corps. (Schmidt knew full well that Reesemeyer Shannon Belt Adv. B. B. qxd 4/13/04 2:10 PM Page 38 38 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 sh 34 reg 35 D a v i d F o s t e r Wa l l a c e and throat’s base. It was some sort of mask, the long-haired cyclist who always carried a small novelty-type spy telescope in his fannypack opined, though except for two holes for eyes and a large one for his forehead’s cup the whole thing appeared too wrinkled and detumescedlooking to be able to make out who or what the shapeless arrangement of microtextured lines on the Mylar was supposed to represent, but even at this distance the mask looked frightening, baggy and hydrocephalic and cartoonishly inhuman, and there were now some louder and less self-ironic shouts and cries, and several members of the watching crowd involuntarily stepped back into the street, fouling traffic and causing a brief discordance of horns as the figure placed both hands on his head’s white bag and with something like a wet kissing noise from his skull’s rear suction cup performed a lithe contra face that left him now facing the window with the sagged mask’s nose and lips and forehead’s very orange cup pressed tight against it — again provoking God only knows what reaction from the Playboy magazine corporate staff on the glass’s inside — whereupon he now reached around and removed from the backpack what appeared to be a small generator or perhaps scuba-style tank with a slender hoselike attachment that was either black or dark blue and ended in a strange sort of triangular or arrowhead- or ⌬-shaped nozzle or attachment or mortise, which tank he connected with straps and a harness to the back of his GoreTex top and allowed the dark hose and nozzle to hang unfettered down over his concentricized rear and the leggings’ tops, so that when he resumed his practiced-looking opposite-leg and -arm climb up the eighth-floor window he now also wore what appeared to be a deflated cranial mask or balloon, dorsal airtank, and frankly demoniclooking tail, and presented an overall sight so complex and unlike anything from any member of the (now much larger and more diffuse, some still in the street and beginning to roil) crowd’s visual experience that there were several moments of dead silence as everyone’s individual neocortices worked to process the visual information and to scan their memories for any thing or combination of live or animated things the figure might resemble or suggest.

Some of the shoppers inside the display windows of the Gap had now come out and joined the sidewalk’s crowd. The figure scaled the eighth–twelfth floors with ease, then paused while attached to the thirteenth- (perhaps called the fourteenth-) floor window to apply some kind of adhesive or cleaner to his suction cups. The winds at 425 feet must have been very strong, because his caudal hose swung wildly this way and that. It was also impossible for some people in the front portion of the street and sidewalk’s crowd to resist looking at their own and the whole collective’s reflection in the Gap’s display window.

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Camouflage: Stories by Murray Bail

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