October 21, 2021

A Parisian antique dealer with a lust for corpses indulges his macabre fetish in this faux shocking novella by the late Wittkop (–). THE NECROPHILIAC BY GABRIELLE WITTKOP. Last Christmas I decided I was going to buy my mother some books. She has always been a. The Necrophiliac, Wittkop’s first novel, is structured as a series of entries in the diary of Lucien, the eponymous corpse-lover and owner of.

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May 18, Anita Dalton rated it it was amazing Shelves: The Necrophiliac – US. Subscribe Get future issues or buy back issues.


So I found myself somewhat discomfited when, on the tube, I took out this book and started reading. The narrative structure does appear simple enough: View all 4 comments. Otherwise this is a near perfect Gothic novel.

There is also the daring challenge to the reader: As he kisses the corpse of his mother he forever links the two things together — sexuality and necrphiliac a bit too convenient, no? It is truly disgusting, truly vile. You are commenting using your WordPress.

But I very quickly was. Stylishly written, The Necrophiliac is a disturbing but impressive work, a dark reminder of the true nature of love and passion, suggesting that even those who find the protagonist’s actions necroophiliac fundamentally differ from him only in the nature of the objects of their affection.

She certainly had a mean character, I would swear to it. After hte, Lucien owns his own respectable business. Indeed, I was put in an absurd, and uncomfortable, situation whereby I found myself having to weigh up whether, for example, a bunch of women being tied to radiators and repeatedly raped was more or less nasty than the slaughter and dismemberment of children.

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Actually, any thriller or historically accurate description of war atrocities is far more gruesome for all the pain suffered by the living. What type of genitals his “partners” own, how old they were when they were It’s a kind of masculine bravado that stretches a narrative to fill a larger container than it requires.

MAKE Literary Productions, NFP | Review: The Necrophiliac by Gabrielle Wittkop

A cadaver has no more personality than a chair. Origins by Yeshua Tolle. I must admit that I was close to abandoning it after only two or three pages. After finishing the book, I immediately thought about taking it and reading it again. It seems to come from the heart of the earth, from the empire where the musky larvae trudge between the roots, where blades of mica gleam like frozen silver, there where the blood of future chrysanthemums wells up, among the dusty peat, the sulphureous mire.

The Necrophiliac by Gabrielle Wittkop – review

There is no link. Los delirios y esperanza por la muerte de las personas que deseaba. The creepiest thing about this very unsettling work is not what the narrator does — which is quite decorously presented — but the conviction that is conveyed: But those are the risks, I suppose.

I don’t hate my occupation: Gruesome subject matter described in such a way that you can’t stop reading. Gabrielel even amor intellectualis — the great white rose — waits to be paid in return. Authors ranging from the Marquis de Sade to Edgar Allen Poe to Chuck Palahnuik have relied on similar tricks, juxtaposing the abhorrent behavior of their characters with irresistibly lovely language, daring the reader to fall under the neecrophiliac spell and into the seductive consciousness of every variety of sadist, fetishist and psychopath.


People MAKE this happen click to see who. Do I want to be seen with this?

The Necrophiliac by Gabrielle Wittkop. Lucien is an antique dealer, a French gentleman, and a necrophiliac.

The Necrophiliac

Americanah by Chisomo Kalinga. Confronted with all that, this was the first time in my reading life that I had to make a concerted effort, a conscious decision, almost as though it was a test of endurance, to continue with a novel, when it would have been easier for me to have thrown it away from myself. Perhaps you have a stronger stomach than I do, but I make no apologies for what I have revealed [nor for my squeamishness].

His relationships are, by the nature of his paraphilia, short term, and he mourns the loss of each romantic partner as their decay takes them away from him. Of course, Wittkop employs a bit of the Lady Gaga factor – shock. Any longer and this book would simply be pornographic, or, worse, boring. This would be a poor and revolting little book fewer than pages, which is quite enough, really if it did not have such a poised tone and sensibility, such intelligence, behind it.