When I Was Five I Killed Myself. (Lernmaterialien)

Ernst Kemmer

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9783150091005: When I Was Five I Killed Myself. (Lernmaterialien)

Synopsis

Burton Rembrandt has the sort of perspective on life that is almost impossible for adults to the perspective of an 8-year-old. And to Burt, his parents and teachers seem to be speaking a language he cannot understand. This is Burt's story as written in pencil on the walls of Quiet Room in the Children's Trust Residence Center, where he lands after expressing his ardent feelings for a classmate. It When I was five I killed myself....In this rediscovered modern classic from "one of France's best-loved temporary writers" (Time), Howard Buten renders with astounding insight and wry language the tale of a troubled -- or perhaps just perfectly normal -- young boy testing the boundaries of love and life.

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About the Author

Howard Buten has had seven novels published in France, the first of which, When I Was Five I Killed Myself, has become a modern classic in translation. As a performing artist he has played opera houses around the world as the theatrical clown Buffo. As a clinical psychologist he is the founding clinical director of the Centre Adam Shelton, a national institution for the treatment of autism in young adults, in Paris. In 1991, Howard Buten was named a Chevalier des Artes et Lettres, France's highest literary honor. END

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Chapter One

When I was five I killed myself.

I was waiting for Popeye who comes after the News. He has large wrists for a person and he is strong to the finish. But the News wouldn't end.

My dad was watching it. I had my hands over my ears because I am afraid of the News. I don't enjoy it as television. It has Russians on who will bury us. It has the President of the United States who is bald. It has highlights from this year's fabulous Autorama where I have been once, it was quite enjoyable as an activity.

A man came on the News. He had something in his hand, a doll, and he held it up. (You could see it wasn't real because of the sewing.) I took my hands off.

"This was a little girl's favorite toy," the man said. "And tonight, because of a senseless accident, she is dead."

I ran up to my room.

I jumped on my bed.

I stuffed my face into my pillow and pushed it harder and harder until I couldn't hear anything anymore. I held my breath.

Then my dad came in and took my pillow away and put his hand on me and said my name. I was crying. He bent over and put his hands under me and lifted me up. He did this to the back of my hair and I put my head on him. He is very strong.

He whispered, "It's ok, Son, don't cry."

"I'm not," I said. "I'm a big boy."

But I was crying. Then Dad told me that every day somebody gets dead and nobody knows why. It's just the rules. Then he went downstairs.

I sat on my bed for a long time. I sat and sat. Something was wrong inside me, I felt it inside my stomach and I didn't know what to do. So I layed down on the floor. I stuck out my pointer finger and pointed it at my head. And I pushed down my thumb. And killed myself.

Copyright © 1981, 2000 by Howard Buten

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