resist We share here some of the fragments that make up "The Sacrilege of Alan Kent, a most peculiar book by Erskine Caldwell in which the author presents in the starkest terms, the essence of his work.
In the alley behind our house lived an old black man with his two wives. When my father took me to walk in the woods, we passed the cottage and my father whispered: "They only have corn bread with flour and water to eat." The white-haired old man smiling and bowing among the red crap as we passed and I turned to look over his shoulder with curiosity and pity. Later my mother stole potatoes and mustard and vinegar to eat. ____________
Two men were talking on the bridge over the creek. One of them said, "Tomorrow I will sell a bale of cotton to buy a tricycle for my boy. The other man said: Hopefully, by the most holy, my wife and I could have a child. ____________
Late at night I knew lo hermoso que el día nunca podría ser.
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Por la noche, después de que todo el mundo se hubiera ido a casa, el viento seco y polvoriento soplaba a través de las ardientes calles y me sofocaba y tenía que correr tan rápido como podía antes de volver a recobrar el aliento.
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Dos hombres estaban contando historias obscenas y sentí que Dios podría perdonar la impiedad, pero que esa vulgaridad iba con toda certeza a condenarlos.
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El día de mi cumpleaños, mi padre me regaló una enorme navaja de bolsillo flamante. Esa tarde me colé en el almacén y rajé doscientos o trescientos sacos de maíz rojo pelado.
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Cuando me rompí la pierna, la feria me dejó atrás y se fue a la siguiente ciudad.
