Marise Querlin

Utterly (and unintentionally) hilarious. One of my favorite party games is passing this around to read aloud, best in a heavy French accent. Try it and see how long you can last without laughing:

"What is the nature of the perverts one meets between the rue Saint-Benoit and the rue de Seine? They have huge, deep-set eyes like people who can never satisfy their hunger. By the trousers they wear, they might be men, but their long hair makes one immediately think the contrary. A fourth accessory is part of the garb of these natives: the duffle coat, which makes them look like American sailors.
A sailor because it gives them an air as though they had wandered the seven seas. American because it recalls the tough novel, chewing gum and the long rifle.
But this famous coat, which is de rigueur in Saint-Germain des Pres, tells us no more than the shoes that recall those you see on the feet of the tight-rope walkers in the Cirque Medrano.
On closer acquaintance, it sometimes takes a long time to discover the hypothetical sex of the average beatnik.
Evil tongues say the reason one hesitates so long is because they have completely shed their sex.
Others maintain that the disciples are trying to outstrip the high priestess of the ex-Sartrian cult, to whom we owe Le Deuxieme Sexe. They have created a third sex, which is very close to original hermaphroditism. This is a fine example of existentialist dialectics, which should please M. Jean-Paul Sartre himself. The thesis is man; the antithesis, woman; the synthesis was at one time the petty existentialist of Saint-Germain and now the 'Beatle fan.'" (pp 154-155)… (mais)