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One of the first full books I read in French. Butor is a true artist in how he manipulates the French language and uses word play. I would highly recommend this book for people with intermediate level in French and who want to get a feeling for French literature in the 20th century post-Céline.
Much interesting to study!Minus one star for the blatant racism... I know it was written in the fifties but that doesn't mean I enjoy reading that kind of bullshit 🙄
Labyrinthe du temps qui passe entre les pierres d’une ville étouffante, le récit est ardu à suivre étant donné sa chronologie éclatée.
gorgeous book that pulls you into the mystery of life in a new place, and the limitations of time and memory.
Ce roman m'a hanté depuis 25 ans. Il décrit une année dans la vie d'un jeune français, Jacques Revel, passée dans une morne ville du nord-ouest de l'Angleterre pendant les années cinquantes. L'histoire racontée dans le journal où Jacques essaie de comprendre et de vaincre la ville de Bleston devient de plus en plus mystérieuse de mois en mois et l'on peut douter que Bleston a rendu Jacques, peu à peu et en quelque sorte fou. Au début Jacques mène une vie désespérante - comprenant peu l'accent de...
Did this for my translation MA. Not easy to translate, in case you're wondering: you just keep on digging through the layers of meaning and allusion but there's no bottom to it. If you do think you're getting somewhere, there's the epitome of spanner in the works: February 29th. Might sound like hard work, but rewards any patience and thought you're willing to offer.
Far exceeding nouveau roman genre, by which the novel is often categorized, it resembles somehow Memento (the movie), but in diary form and with time going both backward and forward. Interesting formal concept, autotematism, a bit of existentialism and idea of ever fading memory, directly opposed to Proust, but difficult and boring to read tho.
"Any detective story, is constructed on two murders" (I cannot remember the exact words nor the order of his sentences in our dialogue, but the fragments that survive in my mind group themselves into coherent speech) "- any detective story, is constructed on two murdersof which the first, committed by the criminal, is only the occasion of the second, in which he is the victim of the pure, unpunishable murderer, the detective, who kills him not by one of those despicable means he was himself redu...
This book was unfortunately sort-of set up to fail. I had been walking in a local bookstore and found this strange, little book on a shelf, where there was no blurb, only a title on its spine, and the date of original publication: 1951.Obviously, that’s a mystery unto itself, and with a quick google I then found out it had recently been reprinted, and was also argued to be a lost Mancunian classic. So - that’s why I bought it, and then read it, a curiosity to see this recently revived book. Whic...
I often look for 'new' writers (Butor isn't exactly new anymore) who might be making breakthroughs in style & content. I thought Butor might've been one of them. So I read this. I just found it dull. It's possible that whatever might've been purported as 'new' in his style might've been a total deliberate absence of drama, excitement, whatever. Maybe there's a fascinating philosophy behind it. But I just found it dull. Oh well. I'd probably read something else by him if I were ever to find anyth...
it took me two (2) tries to read this piece, probably because it was boring as shit. i know the point of the book isn't to give you some thrills, but if you are interested in tight descriptions of lamps and walls, just look at the ones in the room in which you are reading - unless you are one of those people who has a lunch hour, then just concentrate on composing your mc's about the barista chick in the flowery yellow dress and her cockblocking coworker.
Une oeuvre littéraire déguisée en roman policier, écrite comme une oeuvre musicale en contrepoint. Michel Butor est, stylistiquement, un des grands écrivains français contemporains.
Pour lecteurs avertis. Un pseudo-polar, où Butor s'amuse à détourner les conventions du genre, à contrarier l'attente du lecteur, lui suggérant des pistes qui ne mènent nulle part, pour mieux le perdre dans les méandres d'une prose qui est la raison d'être de ce roman, avec ses phrases proustiennes, interminables, qui tentent en vain de ressaisir, de présentifier tous les événements vécus par le narrateur. Efforts désespérés de réappropriation de la mémoire, lutte acharnée contre l'oubli, contre...
A man keeps a diary in which he connects together a number of cultural texts that represent or allude to the town in which he is living—a map, a work of detective fiction, a stained glass window in a cathedral, statues and sculptures in another cathedral—and employs the allegorical narrative these connections produce to interpret his experiences in the town.
Ah, leurs larmes, que je les enviais de pouvoir les répandre ainsi! Les miennes, toutes chargées de suie, de rouille et d'acide, j'étais obligé de les retenir.Rose, comme j'aurais voulu ne pas la regarder, comme elle semblait étrangère à cette ville soudain sauvée!Je ne l'ai pas vraiment aimée, je n'ai pas su vraiment l'aimer, quel droit aurai-je donc sur elle? Il n'y a que cette souffrance...
L'emploi du temps un nouveau-roman qui se passe dans la ville anglaise de Bleston. L'intrigue tourne en rond. Les personnages ressemble a des rats de laboratoire pris dans un labyrinthe. Ce n'est pas une lecture qui fait plaisir.De toute facon le mouvement nouveau-roman se fait jaser. Lisez-le afin de savoir de quoi on parle.
