colophon

1 files changed, 128 insertions, 30 deletions

diff --git a/tomb500000.nomem.tex b/tomb500000.nomem.tex
index 62fb61c..ce0f9fc 100644
--- a/tomb500000.nomem.tex
+++ b/tomb500000.nomem.tex
@@ -1,4 +1,4 @@
-\documentclass[10pt,twoside,draft]{book}
+\documentclass[10pt,twoside]{book}
 
 %TODO run check for 0/O after cleaning up other things
 
@@ -15,6 +15,7 @@
 \usepackage{mwe}
 \usepackage{csquotes}
 \usepackage{amssymb} % for speech delimeters
+\usepackage{ulem} 
 
 \usepackage{fdsymbol} % for speech delimeters
 \usepackage[pagestyles]{titlesec}
@@ -61,18 +62,21 @@
 
 \frontmatter
 \pagestyle{tmb}
-\pagestyle{empty}
+\thispagestyle{empty}
 \thispagestyle{empty}
 \assignpagestyle{\chapter}{empty}
 
 % -- title
 \begin{centering}
-	\null\vfill
-	{ \Huge TOMB FOR 500,000 SOLDIERS \par}
+	{ \includegraphics[scale=0.6]{img/titlehdr} }
+	\vfill
+	{ \includegraphics[scale=0.75]{img/title} }
 
-	\vskip 3em
+	\vfill
 
-	{\large Pierre Guyotat \par}
+	{\includegraphics[scale=1]{img/author}}
+	\vfill
+	{\raggedleft \includegraphics[width=1.5in]{img/stamp}\par}
 	\vfill
 \end{centering}
 
@@ -80,22 +84,62 @@
 \thispagestyle{empty}
 
 % -- colophon
-{
-	\noindent ISBN 1-84068-062-8 \\
-English edition published 2003 by Creation Books \\
-www.creationbooks.com \\
-World English rights reserved \\
-© Editions Gallimard 1968 \\
-Translation © Remain Slocombe 2002 \\
-Design: the Tears Corporation \\
-This book is published with the support of the French Ministry of Culture --- Centre National du Livre \\
-This book is supported by the French Ministry for Foreign Affairs, as part of the Burgess programme headed for the French Embassy in London by the Institut Francais du Royaume-Uni
-}
+{ \ttfamily
+
+\null\vfill
+
+\noindent
+\parbox{2.5in}{\ttfamily \noindent ISBN 1-84068-062-8
+
+\noindent English edition published 2003
+
+by Creation Books
+
+\uline{www.creationbooks.com} 
+\vskip 2em
+\sout{World English rights reserved}
+
+\sout{\textcopyright\ Editions Gallimard 1968}
+}\parbox{1.5in}{\includegraphics[scale=0.5]{img/sal}}
+
+
+
+
+\vfill
+
+{ \noindent Translation \hfill \uline{\itshape{revised by:}} \\
+\textcopyright\ Romain Slocombe 2002 \hfill\itshape{Dan Urbanski}\\
+{ \null\hfill\itshape{Salitter Comittee} \par}}
+{ \null\hfill\itshape{(chants -> songs \textbullet\ missing indentation \textbullet\ fixed spelling 
+\textbullet\ de-EdenEdenEden of punctuation \textbullet\ various \\ consistency fixes)} \par}
+
+\vfill
+
+{ \noindent Design: \sout{the Tears Corporation} \hfill {\itshape{Salitter Comittee}}
+
+\vfill
+
+{\noindent This book is published with the support of \hrulefill\null
+
+\noindent \sout{--- the French Ministry of Culture} \hfill \itshape{brea} \varheartsuit\\
+\sout{--- Centre National du Livre} \hfill \itshape{brooke derek kira ian ix} \\
+\sout{--- the French Ministry for Foreign} \hfill \itshape{K C R M C -{}- World} \\
+\sout{Affairs (as part of the Burgess} \hfill \itshape{Food Books -{}- Book Row}\\
+\sout{programme headed for the French} \hfill \itshape{Ben Ryan Noel Alex}\\
+\sout{Embassy in London by the Institut} \\
+\sout{Francais du Royaume-Uni)}\\
+\null \hfill \itshape{thank u} \\
+\vfill
+\null\hfill \uline{\itshape{https://salitter.org}}\\
+\null\hfill \itshape{instagram @salitters}\\
+}}}
+
+\vfill
 
 \clearpage
-\thispagestyle{empty}
+%\thispagestyle{empty}
 
-\tableofcontents
+%\tableofcontents
 \thispagestyle{empty}
 
 \chapter{Introduction}
@@ -124,13 +168,31 @@ In its anatomization of the forms of conflict and massacre, \booktitle{Tomb for
 	\vfill\null\vfill\null\vfill
 \clearpage
 }
+\thispagestyle{empty}
 
 
 \mainmatter
 
-\pagestyle{tmb}
+{\centering
+\null\vfill
+\thispagestyle{empty}
+\includegraphics[width=4in]{img/ecbatana}
+
+
+\includegraphics[width=4in]{img/ecbatana_cap}
+
+\vfill
+}
+\clearpage
+
 
-\chapter{First Song}
+%\chapter{First Song}
+\cleardoublepage
+\pagestyle{tmb}
+\thispagestyle{empty}
+\null\vskip 4em
+\includegraphics{img/first}
+\includegraphics{img/song}
 
 In those times, war covered Ecbatane. Many slaves escaped, clung to the victors, but when these tried to get information about the resistance of the occupied, the slaves refused to tell the names of their former masters, and therefore fell into even greater servitude. Ecbatane then was still the widest capital of the Occident: it had been built along fifteen kilometers of coastline. Every day, the beaches below the sea front boulevard, were covered with bodies of young members of the Resistance, who landed at night, only to be shot by the sea sentries. The victors had overcome easily: they had conquered a city which was ridding itself of its gods. Ecbatane was returning to the North, from where these victors, booted, helmeted, armor-plated, held the snow of their soles and the ice of their eyelashes. For a hundred years, the earth had been growing colder: Ecbatane's scientists worked secretly at a weapon capable of warming it up but the victors stole it from them. An airplane was built into which the weapon was put and also the scientists who were sent North. The victors persecuted those whom the capital threw out of its seas: adventurers, acrobats, soldiers. A few families, within the heart of the capital, refused to submit to the orders of denouncement and cruelty: their children, at night, would flee into the lands, others would embark in subterranean creeks of the south shore, all rallied in the Buxtehude archipelago still inviolate but covered day and night by the shadows of enemy bombers.
 
@@ -331,7 +393,7 @@ Ierissos pushes back the Queen of the Night, she grabs his wrists, squeezes them
 
 The guard leads Ierissos by the hand, they go to the kitchens, raise the alcove curtain, the guard awakens the slave; inside the linen room, there sleeps Bactriane, whom Ierissos awakens; the blond guard gets out a jeep, he and Ierissos lift the body of the Queen of the Night; the guard knocks down a little door at the lower end of the orchard, the jeep jumps forward then slows down, at dawn, on the sand; on the back seat, Bactriane and the slave are wiping the face of the Queen of the Night; Ierissos runs towards the surf, dips his handkerchief in the rosy foam, Bactriane takes it, lays it down on the Queen of the Night's brow; the blond guard is sleeping, his head leaning on the steering wheel; a party of children, half-naked, are asleep against the barrier of seaweed; at the summit of the cape, gunshots: former soldiers of Ecbatane were continuing the fight, two years after the war had ended, but this time, against those who then governed Ecbatane and whom the war had not moved away from power: these soldiers had expected to destroy the interior enemy by destroying the exterior one; most of them were former slaves or sons of slaves, the present government of Ecbatane had not wished to abolish slavery.
 
-These soldiers lived on the Leuctres promontory; neither the army, nor the government, nor the civilians, dared to besiege them: often they came down into Ecbatane, marched through the city, armed, decorated, the police would draw aside, the civilians applaud, the women quiver, the children follow shouting or silent. Ierissos, the two slaves and the blond guard drive up to Leuctres: the children of soldiers throw flowers on the jeep's bonnet.
+{\sloppy These soldiers lived on the Leuctres promontory; neither the army, nor the government, nor the civilians, dared to besiege them: often they came down into Ecbatane, marched through the city, armed, decorated, the police would draw aside, the civilians applaud, the women quiver, the children follow shouting or silent. Ierissos, the two slaves and the blond guard drive up to Leuctres: the children of soldiers throw flowers on the jeep's bonnet.\par}
 
 Several times, the chief comes to visit Ierissos in Leuctres, Ierissos wears on his finger the ring of the Queen of the Night. Now a young man, Ierissos comes down to Ecbatane, the chief appoints him lieutenant. All the chief's slaves are dead when Ierissos enters the castle again; skeletons crouching, lying, leaning against the corner-posts, a whip wound around the bone of the neck, a dagger stuck into the jaw. Ierissos walks through the orchard, pushes the door of the orangerie, squats down, his lips alight on the place of mud floor where the Queen of the Night fell, sand covers the panes of glass; at each breathing of the sea, the door, pushed by the wind, opens or closes; the chief is waiting in the inside courtyard, he tramples the skeletons underfoot. Ierissos, sitting on the stone bench, his head under the powdery palms, turns the ring around his finger; an apple, which he tears open, has the taste of blood, he strokes the down on his upper lip; he hums a tune to be sung over water, which Bactriane learnt from the Queen of the Night, one evening when Bactriane, hunted by the guards, had taken refuge inside her bedroom. The chief moves forward, he scatters some small branches, his boots squash the rotten apples. Leuctres, abandoned, children there play war; for a time, Leuctres opened its gates to runaway slaves, to raped orphans, and closed itself upon them, Ecbatane had mellowed. Those from Leuctres used to eat together, in summer on the square at the end of the cape, in winter in an ancient deconsecrated church, under the boat's framework; all came to the table, even the new-born. Foreign reporters went up to Leuctres to take photographs of the horde; the blond guard lived with the slave in a wooden house; all night, he writhed and moaned on the bed, in daytime he would get into the jeep, stop it at the edge of the cape and watch the sea, caressing absentmindedly the children who came up and touched his wooden leg; the murmur of the city, if the wind brought it to his ears, would make the foam spout up to his lips, he then moved his hand everywhere on his body, as though a hand, a whip, were striking him.
 
@@ -587,7 +649,7 @@ Ecbatane subdues, crushes the rebellions of its colonies. The captain is dismiss
 
 But, their presence, even uneasy, in the State, produces an ever-increasing social consciousness; the slaves are set free or reserved only for pleasure and for war. New laws protect their labour, the leisure and education of their children; cities are built for them exclusively; they cannot rebel any more; many, among their former masters, envy them, ruined by the fall of the patriarchal regime of collaboration with the enemy and the importing into Ecbatane of too costly industrial equipment, and of risky investment methods.
 
-Ierissos walks in now-deserted Leuctres, Mantinee sits on a woo-den bench; his fist strokes the palisades and the fallen thatches; at the bottom of knocked-down huts, his foot hits, crushes broken celluloid toys; on the plaster-work is written: \speech{Rabia is my lover}; Ierissos feels a lump in his throat: Mantinee, her scarf floating over her shoulders, is watching the sea and the evening star reflected there. Ierissos comes close, he strokes Mantinee's hair; under his nails, dried blood from the ambush at Ouranopoiis:
+Ierissos walks in now-deserted Leuctres, Mantinee sits on a woo-den bench; his fist strokes the palisades and the fallen thatches; at the bottom of knocked-down huts, his foot hits, crushes broken celluloid toys; on the plaster-work is written: \speech{Rabia is my lover}; Ierissos feels a lump in his throat: Mantinee, her scarf floating over her shoulders, is watching the sea and the evening star reflected there. Ierissos comes close, he strokes Mantinee's hair; under his nails, dried blood from the ambush at Ouranopolis:
 
 --- I go in for disbelief, with a quivering of joy. My forehead, I want it crushed and squeezed by the bow of a litter, and my shoulders soiled by vomit. O doubt, only eternity.
 
@@ -603,7 +665,13 @@ By evening, in Ecbatane, the newspapers are torn from hand to hand: Inamenas, du
 
 A ship leaves Ecbatane, soldiers shout on the deck, vomit over the rigging. Ierissos, Mantinee taken back by the princess, at night, in the middle of the sea, brings buckets of soup to the soldiers; the soldiers, drunk, chest and neck smeared with vomit, knock him down and plunge his head inside a bucket of scalding hot soup, until death.
 
-\chapter{Second Song}
+%\chapter{Second Song}
+\clearpage
+\thispagestyle{empty}
+\vskip 4em
+
+\includegraphics{img/second}
+\includegraphics{img/song}
 
 A city was rising out of the marshes, bordered at the east by the sea, at the west by the estuary of the river, Sebaou. The ancient working class district plunged into the marsh, towards the river where shacks made of bamboo and sheet metal vibrate day and night, built on piles. The new, residential district, is built on an artificial hill and protected from the slums by a screen of lime trees, almond trees and gum trees where the kites of officers' and higher civil servants' children get caught. The soldiers of the army occupying the island and maintaining order, those stationed at Inamenas, and those from the deep ends of the island who come to relax here from month to month, live under the trees, below the villas and the palaces, in barracks of concrete and green aluminum. At night, they bend over the roofs of the ancient district, they shout, they sing, they vomit in the moonlight and the quivering of leaves, and the smell of decay comes upon the silent slums. There, live families decimated by conscription and betrayal, pressed by hunger, desire and fear. At night, groups of children ragged and tattered, hair stuck to the skull by an unknown blood, run along the muddy alleys, fall in the rubbish, ride on each other in the soiled grass, knees plunged into the layer of human and animal shit. The women, hair glued to the mouth by the lipstick, in the light of half-opened doors, call while pulling up their stockings under the dress. Screams then shoot out of the piles of wood, the street angles, the bushes, the deserted latrines. Men smoke in front of the houses, sitting in circles over the mud. A gunshot tears the night, a sob springs up from a shack. The children, jostling the women busy fastening their garters, throw themselves on the soup, the cats claw the roof's metal sheets.
 
@@ -1705,7 +1773,14 @@ The midnight breeze softens the wound; Crazy Horse, his cut-off arm thrust under
 
 Crazy Horse's head rolls on his shoulder; milk runs under the slabs, under the stones, gushes from the end of the broken stems, flushes at the bottom of the violet sky; Crazy Horse's lips open up, kiss the crystals, the stars, the jackals' icy eyes; the arm comes out of the shirt; the battledress tears at the leg, the tear creases as far as the knee; the jackal's tongue licks and warms up the kneecap. The moon is resting on the orientation table.
 
-\chapter{Third Song}
+%\chapter{Third Song}
+\clearpage
+\thispagestyle{empty}
+\vskip 4em
+
+\includegraphics{img/third}
+\includegraphics{img/song}
+
 
 The slaughters, the blood from the rapes, the ashes of the burnings, nourish the earth. The governor is dreaming about his assassination. The military whom he disappointed, take to the maquis, the regular troops are resting, rebels from both camps butcher each other way up in the mountains.
 
@@ -3450,7 +3525,13 @@ The general wipes the sweat on his forehead, unbuttons the top of his shirt, sha
 
 --- \speech{Boy, lying naked on the dry sand, on the cliff, black rats and white rats fight in the bundles of acacia wood, under the night, I part pinching them between my fingers the lips of your cock, and I spit the bay leaf in there; I close again the sweet lips of your cock, and I arouse it with balls of amber from the sand, and I feel sperm rising and the muscle growing hard and I set my lips, wet by shame and quick remorse, on the half-opened lips of your marble cock and I suck in both the sperm and the laurel juice.}
 
-\chapter{Fourth Song}
+%\chapter{Fourth Song}
+\clearpage
+\thispagestyle{empty}
+\vskip 4em
+
+\includegraphics{img/fourth}
+\includegraphics{img/song}
 
 The captain leaves his room at noon, he sees the general's apartment's shutters closed. His men cross the courtyard, they come to him:
 
@@ -3730,7 +3811,7 @@ Kment walks towards the man, spits on that smooth and quivering throat, he spits
 
 All around, dogs are searching the sand, digging up bones, storks soar above them, blasts of air from their wings sweep the sand; blinded dogs, growl, bare their fangs, leap on the birds, but these, with one flap of the wings, move up towards the blue air, settle on the shacks of lonely beaches, soar towards the surf, fly up the little channels dug by the sea in the sand of the beach and which flow under the blasts from their wings.
 
-Towards the top of the beach, the sea has pushed pebbles, round stones, cuttlebones, pieces of bark, bits of cork covered by men's turds: rats plunge in, their fangs burst the seaweeds' bladders. Higher up, in the flat rocks, tiny fish tremble inside the pink-bottomed puddles. Higher up still, at the foot of the cliff, lizards run between the puddles where donkeys' and men's urine fumes.
+{\sloppy Towards the top of the beach, the sea has pushed pebbles, round stones, cuttlebones, pieces of bark, bits of cork covered by men's turds: rats plunge in, their fangs burst the seaweeds' bladders. Higher up, in the flat rocks, tiny fish tremble inside the pink-bottomed puddles. Higher up still, at the foot of the cliff, lizards run between the puddles where donkeys' and men's urine fumes.\par}
 
 Kment jumps among the rocks, crouches down, one hand dragging in a yellow puddle, and waits for the lizards; he brings down his hand, the lizard escapes; Kment on all fours, chases him; his wet hand squashes the lizard, the little hard head turns back, over the nail; Kment, between thumb and index, squeezes the open jaw, he raises his hand, the lizard is hanging, Kment bites the tail, gobbles it up, the belly writhes, bleeds; Kment grabs it, gobbles it up, the lizard's legs grapple on to his lips, Kment cuts them with his teeth, spits them out on the rock, he throws into his mouth the head with its jaw opening convulsively, he crunches it, the lizard's teeth crack under his teeth; Kment licks the tip of his fingers, he looks round, sees lizards running on the rock, disappear in the holes of the cliff, he stretches his hand out, catches two lizards, squeezes them in his fist and eats them, tail and head, belly and belly, tail and head, his lips are covered with little scales and little teeth, the remains of the legs prick his throat; above him the grass on the cliff is on fire; Kment rises, wipes his wet hand on his hip and dances, the smoke and the scent of grass drying the sweat on his body, he dances, his feet bare, grazed, burned on the rock, he throws his arms above his head, beats his hips, sticks out his belly, hollows it, the rags covering him, slide, get undone, fall along his thighs, he throws back over his shoulders his hair full of itchings, flies vibrate in his ears, his knees, the muscles of his neck crack, dribble runs down his chin; head tilted backwards, oily, black hair brushing the top of his back, he lowers himself, belly convulsed, thighs opening, knees parted, heels joined; his buttocks touch his heels, weigh upon them; he throws both his hands between the knees, closes his fists, presses them against the rock, his toes, reddened, curl up, nails scraping the rock; he drops on his right shoulder, he rolls on the side, the rock's fire seizes him, from feet to nape, he crosses his wrists under the nape, he stretches his legs, the shreds of lizards swarm in his intestines, he opens his dry eyes, he widens them with his fingers, turns them towards the sun and holds them open until he gets dazzled; then he shuts them over the tears and can go to sleep, temple and ear against the burning and sharp rock.
 
@@ -4473,7 +4554,13 @@ A few men, with hard-ons, wander around the brothel, hoist themselves up to the
 
 On the surface of the sea, trails of light cross one another at the spot on the horizon where the sun has set; solitary birds dive, pluck the small fish asleep on the tufts of seaweed or fascinated by the anemones' phosphorescent heart.
 
-\chapter{Fifth Song}
+%\chapter{Fifth Song}
+\clearpage
+\thispagestyle{empty}
+\vskip 4em
+
+\includegraphics{img/fifth}
+\includegraphics{img/song}
 
 Thivai wakes up before the brothel shuts its lights out at dawn; he gets out of the sleeping bag; cocks crow on the top of the hill, under the highest watchtower: the Eiffel tower; between the bars of the small basement window, their red combs jump among the heavy grass; the sentry climbs down the ladder, his rifle clinks against the protection sheet; Thivai lies back again on the sleeping bag, the tall wet trees pour their dew on the red roof of the command post. Thivai feels a lump in his throat, he covers his belly with his hands. Sun flashes through the basement window, dazzles the boy:
 
@@ -5318,7 +5405,13 @@ In the sitting room, the twins are asleep, embraced, on the sofa. Winnetou throw
 
 A seagull rocks and cries on a floating mass of seaweed.
 
-\chapter{Sixth Song}
+%\chapter{Sixth Song}
+\clearpage
+\thispagestyle{empty}
+\vskip 4em
+
+\includegraphics{img/sixth}
+\includegraphics{img/song}
 
 Xaintrailles sets for the following day the beginning of operation Ecbatane, named after the city in the home country, where most of the soldiers were born, where Xaintrailles and Thivai, when slaves, aroused the body and the heart of many men and women, where political chiefs, military and clergy men quarrel casually and leisurely and fight over a selfish youth.
 
@@ -5862,7 +5955,12 @@ Kment runs in the upper city, his bare feet sink in the bloody sludge pouring ou
 
 --- A child is moving within me since this morning: Touch. The last-born of the world, and a rat made it.
 
-\chapter{Seventh Song}
+% \chapter{Seventh Song}
+\clearpage
+\thispagestyle{empty}
+\vskip 4em
+\includegraphics{img/seventh}
+\includegraphics{img/song}
 
 The waters are covering the archipelago; the top of the mountains emerges alone from a whirlpool of mud, of stones, of branches, of tools, of axles, of cartridge magazines, of tyres, of plane carcasses, of knives. A glaring sunshine hammers the waters. The slaves' rock looms up from a red whirlwind in which two half-track vehicles are banging against each other, filled with naked soldiers with their wounds washed. Charges, mines, grenades, bombs, still explode at the bottom of the water, lift it up, tear it. Then, in a space of time of one day and two nights, the waters retire as far as the ruins of Titov Veles. In the morning, clear waters, run through by sea currents, surround the rock covered with a thick and light mud; then, towards noon, retire again as far as the ruins of Titov Veles, washing the area thus exposed; during the night, beaches form at the limit of the retired waters. Until the first glimmers of dawn, an island takes shape, limited by what once was the stinking suburbs of Titov Veles and the Thilissi village.