This article is from Figaro Magazine
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Before Romain Gary, Boris Vian had managed an extraordinary literary hoax: publishing J'irai cracher sur vos tombes under the name of Vernon Sullivan. But, just as Gary was destroyed by Émile Ajar, Vian was broken by this imaginary, African-American author, whose translator he presented himself. Morality: one must not invent a false identity; It's too dangerous a game for mental health.
The year is 1946. Boris Vian is tired of writing little-known masterpieces: Vercoquin and Plankton misses the price of the Pléiade, L'Écume des jourscomes out in general indifference. Boris imagines with a publisher friend, Jean d'Halluin, founder of Scorpion editions, to publish a detective novel violently denouncing racism, with scenes of sex and drinking. Written in fifteen days, I will spit on your gravestells the story of Lee Anderson, a "white", that is to say a young blond mixed-race, white skin, who will infiltrate ...
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