The Interpreter of Farts

By Ukë Zenel Buçpapaj

The Interpreter of Farts describes the events of seven weeks spread across indefinable years in the life of two primary characters, Mr. Vessel and Malo the oaf. Mr. Vessel is obsessed with the idea of the right fart as the ultimate expression of happiness and the single true law, which complies with nature, applies to all men, and remains unchangeable and eternal.

Whats next? Will he tolerate failing to collect the golden fart from Malo the oaf? Malo drinks endless bottles of cognac, sings forbidden songs, and buries his wife in pleasure. Come what may, Mr. Vessel has made the decision to solve the painful puzzle. He haunts Malo the oaf to prove him guilty of violating communal harmony.

The Interpreter of Farts warns of the danger of rulers who try to control everyone, including their thoughts. Paranoia, mixed with fear and laughter, leads to the ironic and unexpected conclusion. Author Uk Zenel Bupapaj plays with language and narrative forms, using witty styles, imitations of music, dialogue, monologue, and Socratic questions and answers. This unique novel offers a bittersweet tone and a metaphorical message.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Oct 27, 2011
• ISBN: 9781426952647

Ukë Zenel Buçpapaj

Ukë Zenel Buçpapaj is an Albanian writer and translator who won the International Poetry Contest (Visions—International, Washington, DC, 1996). He took part in the International Writers Program at the University of Iowa in 1992. He is a Fulbright Scholar who holds a PhD in linguistics. He has published several books.

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Contents

Monday

Intermezzo

Tuesday

Intermezzo

Wednesday

Intermezzo

Thursday

Intermezzo

Friday

Intermezzo

Saturday

Intermezzo

Sunday

Intermezzo

Monday

Intermezzo

Tuesday

Intermezzo

Wednesday

Intermezzo

Thursday

Intermezzo

Friday

Intermezzo

Saturday

Intermezzo

Sunday

Intermezzo

Monday

Intermezzo

Tuesday

Wednesday

Intermezzo

Thursday

Friday

Intermezzo

Saturday

Intermezzo

Sunday

Intermezzo

Monday

Intermezzo

Tuesday

Intermezzo

Wednesday

Intermezzo

Thursday

Intermezzo

Friday

Intermezzo

Saturday

Intermezzo

Sunday

Intermezzo

Monday

Intermezzo

Tuesday

Intermezzo

Wednesday

Intermezzo

Thursday

Intermezzo

Friday

Intermezzo

Saturday

Intermezzo

Sunday

Intermezzo

Monday

Intermezzo

Tuesday

Intermezzo

Wednesday

Intermezzo

Thursday

Intermezzo

Friday

Intermezzo

Saturday

Intermezzo

Sunday

Intermezzo

Intermezzo

Tuesday

Intermezzo

Wednesday

Intermezzo

Thursday

Intermezzo

Friday

Intermezzo

Saturday

Intermezzo

Sunday

Intermezzo

Monday

Nobody ever saw him in a bathing suit. Every summer he would go to the beach but not expose his skin to the sun. His deformed chest was just like that of a featherless hen. Only two people knew about it: His tailor who made good clothes to correct such a defect, and of course, his wife who endured its ugly presence at night. She had divorced him once mainly for this reason. Nevertheless, she joined him later for the sake of mercy. Weird with too much despair, he had tried suicide and escaped from death only because God takes him that loves most, or as S. City puts it, A latrine is never thunder-struck.

After he had the first stroke, five years ago, at the age of forty-seven, he had developed two qualities that would make him known in the public and indispensable for the government. He had written several books of poetry, a novel, not to speak of one thousand editorials about the waning skills of the country’s Big Man. His real greatness, however, stemmed from an adequate research on interpreting farts. His genius had saved the government from a lot of trouble. People charged with great responsibilities, uncertainties, fears, creepy smiles, clapping of hands, and a permanent dumbness had become different from what they displayed outside. The detectives found themselves at a loss. It remained impossible to inquire into the ratio between human happiness and social disgust. The ties with the rank and file were at stake, and would get paralyzed if no solution was found.

Intermezzo

A bone

Burning

Deep

Deep

In heat

A fire

Defeating death

Flames wrap in flames

Sin carving

Their cradle

And

Grave

Tuesday

In this interim, an important change occurred in the Big Man’s appetite. He increased the dosage of his favourite liquor and drank it like water. Only euphoria saved him from wondering about any possible disaster that might come out of that running of still waters. He knew well that living in arduous expectation was detrimental to his health. He did not believe, therefore, that his way of management possessed any censurable aspect. Carried away by his ambitions, he mused that public quietness was desirable as it evoked good signs of obedience, concern and loyalty to the cause. Yet the truth was bound to come to light before long.

Intermezzo

Winds have run away

Yet

It’s freezing

Cold

In our forests

Snow worms

Suffocating

Under my feet

Kisses

Still boiling

A bit further

Wednesday

The writer had two children. However, he was not supposed to be their biological father. His wife had managed well to avoid abnormalities in human race. The remark had some truth in it. She had become pregnant right after the divorce, and gave birth to the twins a few days before their rejoining. Though hurtful, it helped him to be enrolled in the public list of the greatest hits. He also had a name. He was called Mr. Vessel. He took pride in it. He felt to be some kind of a large container, which one day would teem with fame. This errant belief permitted him to give free rein to his evil intentions. The future held good pickings in store.

Intermezzo

Where