In this wickedly hilarious collection of fables, Alessandro Boffa introduces us to Viskovitz and his never-ending search for his true love, Ljuba. As he changes from a lovelorn lion to a jealous finch, from a confused dung beetle to an enlightened police dog, Viskovitz embraces his metamorphoses with wry humor and an oftentimes painful sense of self.
As an ant, Viskovitz fights his way to the top where his egotism calls on the colony to create a monument to his greatness out of a piece of bread. As a sponge, he is horrified by the inbreeding in his family—“I’m my own mother-in-law!!!”—and yearns for a change in current so he can mate with Ljuba, who lies downstream. As a mantis, he asks his mother what his father was like, only to hear, “Crunchy. A bit salty. High in fiber.” Unfortunately, when he meets Ljuba shortly thereafter, he follows his father’s fate. And as a scorpion, his uncontrollably deadly efficiency meets its match in Ljuba and finds “no way to escape this intolerable, sinister happiness.”
From the Trade Paperback edition.
See more like this in our History eBooks section
Share your thoughts on the You're an Animal, Viskovitz History eBook with others!
|Title of History eBook: You're an Animal, Viskovitz|
|Release Date: 12-18-2007|
|Allowed Countries (hover)|
|Publisher: Knopf Publishing Group|
This eBook download is available in the following formats:
|Parent title||You're an Animal,...|
|Devices||Samsung Tablet, Apple Ipad & Iphone, Barnes & Noble Nook, Kobo eReader, Aluratek Libre, Iliad, Nokia, Blackberry, Hanlin|
|Note||ePub, short for electronic publication is one of our favorites and should be yours for a couple of reasons. ePub offers reflowable text giving you flexibility to manipulate how the content is presented. Moreover, lots of cool features are now being developed for the reader like advanced video and audio. ePub is now an industry standard, so all of the "non-propreitary" hardware manufacturers are now supporting it.|
You're an Animal, Viskovitz
How's Life Treating You, Viskovitz?
There's nothing more boring than life, nothing more depressing than light, nothing more bogus than reality. For me every waking was a dying-living was being dead.
Jana squeaked, "Wake up, Visko! It's May! They'll end up getting all the best acorns."
With great difficulty I stretched and grudgingly opened one eye. Because in spite of everything, you have to live.
"Just a minute," I croaked. "I have to thaw out."
It was the end of an eight-month hibernation. I was waking up in the gray hereafter, the underworld of dormice.
In the darkness of the den I made out topiform shadows tottering past piles of slumberers, heading out of this sepulcher-souls of those who had passed on, who were transmigrating into wakefulness. As was I.
I rolled onto one side, and all the bones of my mortal remains creaked. I began to recognize the familiar outlines of members of my tribe-nephews, nieces, grandnephews and grandnieces, grandparents and great-grandparents, parents and parents-in-law. Some of them were catching forty more winks, curled up under their long furry tails. They were groaning as they gave themselves over to that devastating pleasure.
As my metabolism got into gear I was tortured by pains in my joints, by dehydration, by the distress of every single cell. It was the agony of reawakening, of a torment that would last another four months until the next hibernation. At a time like this there's only hunger that gives you the strength to get to your feet-the knowledge that if you don't fatten up, you won't be able to get back to sleep.
"Up and at 'em!" I said to