Candy - Softcover

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Terry Southern (1924–1995) is the bestselling author of Candy, The Magic Christian, Flash and Filigree, Blue Movie, and Red-Dirt Marijuana and Other Tastes. An Academy Award–nominated screenwriter, his film credits include Dr. Strangelove, Easy Rider, and Barbarella, as well as an adaptation of The Magic Christian.

Mason Hoffenberg (1922–1986) was an American poet and a writer for the Olympia Press in Paris whose works include A Sin for Breakfast and Until She Screams.

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In the fifth row center, Candy Christian slowly closed her notebook and dropped her pen into her purse. She was sitting on the edge of her chair, holding her breath; then she gave a soft sigh and sat back limply. She felt utterly exhausted, yet exhilarated too. A great man, she thought, a truly great man. I'm in the presence of a truly great man.

She gathered up her things and filed out slowly with the others. At the door she had a glimpse of Professor Mephesto walking down the hall toward his office, clasping his notes up to his chest, talking amiably to one of the students, his arm around the boy's shoulder―a very young boy with wild hair and a sullen face. She wondered what they were saying. She wondered what she would say. How she would love to be a part of the conversation! Yet, what could she say? She decided to go straight to the library and read for the rest of the afternoon, then she remembered that she had promised her father she would come directly home after class and go with him to Aunt Ida's. "Darn Daddy anyway!" she said to herself.

Candy was born on Valentine's Day. Perhaps this was why she was so beautiful―or so her father often remarked, at least in the presence of others; when they were alone, however, he was inclined to be a bit strict with her―not strict so much as insensitive to her needs, or possessively solicitous. But he was, after all, only a simpleminded businessman. At any rate though, there was something like a Valentine about Candy―one of the expensive ones, all frills and lace, and fragrance of lavender. But she was sometimes petulant, and perhaps it was this, her petulance, more than her virginity, which was her flaw and her undoing.