2050, Paris n'est plus qu'un torrent de violences, le terrain de jeu de fanatiques déchus. L'air n'est plus respirable. Les hologrammes ont remplacé les hommes. Le travail n'est plus que le privilège de quelques-uns. Sous l'hégémonie de Dame Consommation, il est devenu interdit de fabriquer et réparer.
Ce livre est un signal d'alerte. Il est futuriste sans être fantaisiste. Un livre terrifiant de vérités aux premières pages et saisissant d'espoir aux dernières. Un très beau roman d'anticipation, empli d'humanité. Un bel appel au vivre ensemble et au retour à l'autosuffisance.
"I have never been fond of dress, as you know, dear readers. For I have been in undress most of the time."
So writes Sue Suckit, the eighteen-year-old heroine of this Edwardian tale, first privately printed by the Suceur Press in Paris at the turn of the last century. Sweet Sue was but a lass when her parents died and her dear Uncle Will, still at a bachelor at 50, became her guardian.
Though Uncle Will seems to disdain petticoats and all they cover, Sue soon learned he had led one of the fullest, and most voluptuous, of lives. It is with him she first experienced the joys of Eros, and next with his manservant, Charley. From there it was but a step to a house of pleasure where rich but jaded men paid dearly to enjoy the favors of willing maids--especially if they were young and pretty.
"Sue Suckit's adventures can only be described as whirlwind. She is the incarnation of the old saying, 'Where there's a Will there's a lay...'"
--Count Charles de Lecheur