Status
Available
Publication
London : Bitter Lemon, 2004.
Description
Blum's found five pounds of top-quality Peruvian cocaine in a suitcase. His adventure startedin Malta where he was trying to sell porn magazines, the latest in a string of dodgy deals that never seem to come off. A left-luggage ticket from the Munich train station leads him to the gear. Now his problems begin in earnest. Pursued by the police and drug traffickers, the luckless Blum falls prey to the frenzied paranoia of the cocaine addict and dealer. His desperate and clumsy search for a buyer takes him to Munich to Frankfurt and finally Ostend.
User reviews
LibraryThing member helenell
Blum is in Malta trying to sell his collection of Danish porn magazines, his visa almost expired, when a series of events finds him in possession of a left-luggage ticket from Munich train station. On his return to Germany, he opens the locker to find 5 pounds of top grade Peruvian cocaine. It
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appears life is looking up at last, at least until he tries to sell it. Originally published in Germany in 1981, this is another winner from Bitter Lemon Press. Show Less
LibraryThing member FEBeyer
Blum is selling Danish porn mags in Malta, he eats a nice dinner once a week, but the rest of his time is spent in seedy hotels and bars. Fauser speaking through Blum has an expert eye for little disappointments, the shabbiness of reality.
“I think it is,” said Blum, spreading butter on a slice
Blum’s porn mags get stolen but by chance he comes into possession of five pounds of cocaine. Good stuff, he starts taking it himself. In a state of constant paranoia he travels from Malta to Germany and on to Holland and Belgium in search of buyers. He bumps into suspicious, run-down characters at every turn.
“The thin man in the striped green suit going through a whole pile of model railway magazines with the gloomy expression of someone in his last semester of teacher training.”
And another one:
“He was drinking his beer, staring at a circus poster on the wall and thinking of nothing in particular, when a man wearing a hat pushed his way in between him and the odd characters at the counter. Glancing at him sideways, Blum immediately knew what he was, and why. This man too was flotsam washed up in these surroundings, with his shabby raincoat, Trevira suit, striped tie and some fifty-five years of the struggle for survival showing in his face: the bags under his eyes, the wart on his cheek, the wrinkled turkey neck. But his eyes were still in search of something, and his chin wasn’t done for yet.”
The people he bumps into invariably have some link to the drug trade and lead Blum on wild goose chases. Towards the end the author finally has enough of hotels, bars and trains and takes us to the zoo:
“The Javanese was now taking snapshots of his fiancée in front of the flamingos. In the rain and the dim haze, he looked the one truly exotic creature in this twilit place full of jungle flora and fauna, but Blum had only to glance at his sample case to know that there could be nothing more exotic than a man of around forty in a wet blazer, walking into the reptile house of Amsterdam Zoo with five pounds of cocaine inside cans of shaving foam, hoping to strike lucky at last.”
The plot meanders along and Blum’s cocaine paranoia becomes tiresome. But this is fun for the atmosphere and quirky conversations. Three stars
“I think it is,” said Blum, spreading butter on a slice
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of rye bread. The butter, of course, was chilled hard, and the bread crumbled.Blum’s porn mags get stolen but by chance he comes into possession of five pounds of cocaine. Good stuff, he starts taking it himself. In a state of constant paranoia he travels from Malta to Germany and on to Holland and Belgium in search of buyers. He bumps into suspicious, run-down characters at every turn.
“The thin man in the striped green suit going through a whole pile of model railway magazines with the gloomy expression of someone in his last semester of teacher training.”
And another one:
“He was drinking his beer, staring at a circus poster on the wall and thinking of nothing in particular, when a man wearing a hat pushed his way in between him and the odd characters at the counter. Glancing at him sideways, Blum immediately knew what he was, and why. This man too was flotsam washed up in these surroundings, with his shabby raincoat, Trevira suit, striped tie and some fifty-five years of the struggle for survival showing in his face: the bags under his eyes, the wart on his cheek, the wrinkled turkey neck. But his eyes were still in search of something, and his chin wasn’t done for yet.”
The people he bumps into invariably have some link to the drug trade and lead Blum on wild goose chases. Towards the end the author finally has enough of hotels, bars and trains and takes us to the zoo:
“The Javanese was now taking snapshots of his fiancée in front of the flamingos. In the rain and the dim haze, he looked the one truly exotic creature in this twilit place full of jungle flora and fauna, but Blum had only to glance at his sample case to know that there could be nothing more exotic than a man of around forty in a wet blazer, walking into the reptile house of Amsterdam Zoo with five pounds of cocaine inside cans of shaving foam, hoping to strike lucky at last.”
The plot meanders along and Blum’s cocaine paranoia becomes tiresome. But this is fun for the atmosphere and quirky conversations. Three stars
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Language
Original language
German