Simon Lelic - A Thousand Cuts
Here you can read online Simon Lelic - A Thousand Cuts full text of the book (entire story) in english for free. Download pdf and epub, get meaning, cover and reviews about this ebook. year: 2010, publisher: Viking, genre: Detective and thriller. Description of the work, (preface) as well as reviews are available. Best literature library LitArk.com created for fans of good reading and offers a wide selection of genres:
Romance novel
Science fiction
Adventure
Detective
Science
History
Home and family
Prose
Art
Politics
Computer
Non-fiction
Religion
Business
Children
Humor
Choose a favorite category and find really read worthwhile books. Enjoy immersion in the world of imagination, feel the emotions of the characters or learn something new for yourself, make an fascinating discovery.
- Book:A Thousand Cuts
- Author:
- Publisher:Viking
- Genre:
- Year:2010
- Rating:5 / 5
- Favourites:Add to favourites
- Your mark:
A Thousand Cuts: summary, description and annotation
We offer to read an annotation, description, summary or preface (depends on what the author of the book "A Thousand Cuts" wrote himself). If you haven't found the necessary information about the book — write in the comments, we will try to find it.
Simon Lelic: author's other books
Who wrote A Thousand Cuts? Find out the surname, the name of the author of the book and a list of all author's works by series.
Simon Lelic
Simon Lelic
Simon Lelic
Wim Wetzel
Simon Critchley
A. J. Jacobs
Stephen Bernard
Dennis Bartok
Blanche Cirker
A Thousand Cuts — read online for free the complete book (whole text) full work
Below is the text of the book, divided by pages. System saving the place of the last page read, allows you to conveniently read the book "A Thousand Cuts" online for free, without having to search again every time where you left off. Put a bookmark, and you can go to the page where you finished reading at any time.
Light
Font size:
↓
↑
Reset
Interval:
↓
↑
Bookmark:
Make
Acknowledgements
Thanks and love to my wife, Sarah, above all, and to my family: Mum, Dad, Katja, Matt, Galina, Ekaterina, Sue, Les, Kate, Nij, and of course to our budding football team. Also to Sandra Higgison, Richard Marsh, Jason Schofield, Kirsty Langton, Christian Francis, John Lewis, Darryl Hobden and Anna South for their support, guidance and advice. Any errors appear in spite of their help, and are my responsibility alone. Thank you, finally, to all at Viking, Picador, the Zoe Pagnamenta Agency and Felicity Poryan, in particular to Kathryn Court, Maria Rejt, Zoe Pagnamenta and Caroline Wood.
Acknowledgements
Thanks and love to my wife, Sarah, above all, and to my family: Mum, Dad, Katja, Matt, Galina, Ekaterina, Sue, Les, Kate, Nij, and of course to our budding football team. Also to Sandra Higgison, Richard Marsh, Jason Schofield, Kirsty Langton, Christian Francis, John Lewis, Darryl Hobden and Anna South for their support, guidance and advice. Any errors appear in spite of their help and are my responsibility alone. Thank you, finally, to all at Picador and Felicity Bryan, in particular to Maria Rejt and Caroline Wood.
I wasnt there. I didnt see it. Me and Banks were down by the ponds, pissing about with this Sainsburys trolley we found on the common. We were late already so we decided to ditch. Get in, Banks says. You get in, I say. In the end, I get in. Im always the one getting in. He pushes me for a bit over the field but the wheels keep seizing up, even though the grass is short and it hasnt rained in a month. Sainsburys trolleys are shit. Theres a Waitrose just opened up where the Safeway used to be and their trolleys are built like Volkswagens. Sainsburys get theirs from France or Italy or Korea or something. Theyre like Daewoos. Although Ming says Daewoo means fuck yourself in Chinese, which is the only reason Id ever buy one.
How many was it in the end? I heard thirty. Willis said sixty but you cant trust Willis. He reckons his uncle played for Spurs, years ago, in the eighties or something, and that he can get tickets whenever he likes. He never can though. Ive asked him like four times but he always comes up with some excuse. Not cup games, he says. He cant get tickets for cup games. Or I asked too late. Says I have to tell him weeks in advance. Months. Not the day before, even though it wasnt the day before, it was a Monday or a Tuesday or something and the game wasnt till Saturday.
So how many was it?
Oh. Really? Oh.
Just five?
Oh.
Well, anyway. Thats where we were when we heard: down by the ponds. Theres this track that runs round the edge. Its made of planks. There are gaps where the wheels can get wedged and it feels like youre off-roading in a Skoda but you can get up some speed. You have to watch the flowerpots. They stick out into the path and you cant move em cos the council have nailed em to the floor. I dunno why they bothered. Theyre full of Coke cans now, not flowers.
When I say we heard, I dont mean we heard it happen. School was half a mile away, back across the railway tracks. But these year eights turn up just as Banks decides to have a go in the trolley. He gets his foot caught and sort of falls, not arse over gob but enough to make me laugh. I shouldnt of. He gets pissed and starts having a go. And then the year eights turn up and even though they havent seen him trip, Banks decides to have a go at them.
It was weird though. Theyre crying, the year eights. Two of em are, any rate. The other one just kind of stares. Not at anything in particular. Like hes watching TV on the inside of his glasses.
So anyway, Banks starts having a go but the year eights just kind of let him. They dont run or mouth off or try to fight or anything. I recognise one of em. Ambrose, his name is. My sister, shes in year eight too, she knows him and says hes okay so I ask him whats going on. He cant speak. His words come out all squashed and stuck together. Banks turns on him but I tell him to leave it. In the end one of the others tells us. I dont remember his name. Spotty kid. Normally Id say shut the fuck up but hes the only one making any sense.
Banks wants to take the trolley with us but I tell him therell be police and that there so he shoves it in a bush and says to the year eights if they take it hell shit in their mouths. They dont look much interested in the trolley, to be fair. The spotty kid nods just the same, all wide-eyed like, but the other two dont look like theyve even noticed the trolley.
Ive never run to school in my life. Neithers Banks, I guess. I remember we were laughing, not cos it was funny, just cos it was something, you know?
I say to Banks, who do you think did it?
Jones, Banks says. It was Jones, I know it.
How do you know it?
I just do. He was pissed all last week after Bickle made him sing on his own in assembly.
Bickle, thats Mr Travis, the headmaster. Thats what we call him cos basically hes mental.
You wont tell him I said that, will you?
Anyway, I dont say anything for a moment. Then I say, I bet it was one of them Goths. One of them kids with the hair and the jeans and the boots they wear in the summer.
Banks sort of scrunches his nose, like he doesnt want to admit it but he thinks Im probably right.
Have you seen Taxi Driver, by the way?
You should.
We hear the sirens before we see the school. Weve heard em already I expect but we havent noticed em. And when we get there I count ten police cars at least. Shitty ones, Fiestas and that, but theyre everywhere, all with their lights going. But I guess you know that. You were there, right?
But you got there later?
Thought so. Cos its your case, right? Youre in charge.
Sort of? What does that mean?
Well, anyway, there are ambulances there too and a fire engine for some reason. Some are still moving, just arriving I guess. The rest are all across the street and halfway up the pavement like someones asked my mum to park em.
Im sweating and I stop and I hear Banks panting beside me. We arent laughing any more.
Everyones going the opposite way. Theyre leaving the building, any rate. At the pavement everyones sort of gathered, hanging together in groups. There are some year sevens near the teachers, just outside the gates. The sixth-formers are furthest away, across the road on the edge of the common and just along from me and Banks. I cant see any of our lot but people keep blocking my view. Its like three-thirty or parents night or a fire drill or something, or all of them things at once.
Check it out, says Banks and hes pointing at Miss Hobbs. Shes carrying some kid in her arms, crossing the playground towards the gates. Theres blood on em but I cant tell whose.
Are you sure it was only five?
Well, whatever. So Miss Hobbs is crossing the playground, wobbling and swaying and looking like shes about to drop this kid but no one helps her, not till she reaches the gates. All around her kids are buzzing about and the police, theyre going the other way, into the school. Then Miss Hobbs yells, shes got quite a yell I can tell you, like the time she yelled at Banks for flicking his sandwich crusts at Stacie Crump, and one of the ambulance men spots her and legs it over with a stretcher. They disappear after that, behind the ambulance, and thats when I see Jenkins with the others by the lights.
I tug at Banks and I point and we weave in and out the cars and over to the crossing.
Where you been? says Jenkins.
Whats happening? I ask him.
Someone went loony tunes. In assembly. Shot the whole place up.
What, with a gun? I say and right away wish I hadnt of.
Light
Font size:
↓
↑
Reset
Interval:
↓
↑
Bookmark:
Make
Similar books «A Thousand Cuts»
Look at similar books to A Thousand Cuts. We have selected literature similar in name and meaning in the hope of providing readers with more options to find new, interesting, not yet read works.
Simon Lelic
Wim Wetzel
Simon Critchley
A. J. Jacobs
Stephen Bernard
Dennis Bartok
Blanche Cirker
Reviews about «A Thousand Cuts»
Discussion, reviews of the book A Thousand Cuts and just readers' own opinions. Leave your comments, write what you think about the work, its meaning or the main characters. Specify what exactly you liked and what you didn't like, and why you think so.