Au dbut des annes soixante, William Saroyan achte une vieille limousine ayant autrefois appartenu un gangster, et entreprend avec son cousin un voyage travers le nord des tats-Unis. De New York Fresno, en Californie, les deux hommes devisent, chemin faisant, au gr des rencontres et des incidents de parcours, sur leurs vies, leurs souvenirs et la littrature. mi-chemin entre " road-movie " et autobiographie, ce rcit mle philosophie, commentaires sociaux et rflexions trs diverses o surgissent les noms de Fellini, d'Henry Ford ou d'Hemingway.Dans le style agrablement dsinvolte qui le caractrise, Saroyan nous livre, tout au long de cette quipe paisible, un rcit qui mle brillamment l'humour la gravit, et qui, ce faisant, laisse dcouvrir un petit coin de l'me d'un des crivains les plus originaux de sa gnration.Indit en France, Echappe en roue libre est certainement l'un des crits les plus personnels de l'uvre de l'crivain amricain.
William Saroyan was an Armenian-American writer, renowned for his novels, plays, and short stories. He gained widespread recognition for his unique literary style, often characterized by a deep appreciation for everyday life and human resilience. His works frequently explored themes of Armenian-American immigrant experiences, particularly in his native California, and were infused with optimism, humor, and sentimentality. Saroyan's breakthrough came with The Daring Young Man on the Flying Trapeze (1934), a short story that established him as a major literary voice during the Great Depression. He went on to win the Pulitzer Prize for Drama in 1940 for The Time of Your Life, though he declined the award, and in 1943, he won an Academy Award for Best Story for The Human Comedy. His novel My Name Is Aram (1940), based on his childhood, became an international bestseller. Though celebrated for his literary achievements, Saroyan had a tumultuous career, often struggling with financial instability due to his gambling habits and an unwillingness to compromise with Hollywood. His later works were less commercially successful, but he remained a prolific writer, publishing essays, memoirs, and plays throughout his life. Saroyan's legacy endures through his influence on American literature, his contributions to Armenian cultural identity, and the honors bestowed upon him, including a posthumous induction into the American Theater Hall of Fame. His remains are divided between Fresno, California, and Armenia, reflecting his deep connection to both his birthplace and ancestral homeland.
A few years ago I read Saroyan’s collection The Daring Young Man on the Flying Trapeze, which I had quite liked. That was, I believe, his first published book, whereas this one came towards the end of his writing career. Here the car journey serves simply as a “vehicle”, if I may use that expression, for Saroyan to expound random thoughts about life, in a sort of extreme stream-of-consciousness style. Sometimes this sort of thing works for me. This was one occasion where it didn’t.
The book is quite short and is an easy enough read, so I could have finished it, but I was starting to find it quite irritating. No rating as I didn’t finish it.
Saroyan solidified the take in my mind that Hemingway is to writing as Wilt Chamberlain is to basketball - which would make Steinbeck, Bill Russell - thank you
I'm a defender of the walk as man's greatest defense against madness, this little diddy may just have made the drive 1b on that mount rushmore
What a strange, and disappointing, little book. I picked it up expecting something along the lines of Blue Highways or Travels with Charley -- a drive across America with the writer's observations on the people, landscape, and culture as they go by. Instead, I'm stuck in a car with someone who loves to talk, who rambles on about their family, Hemingway, night driving, and much more which has little relevance to the towns he passes through, and is often flat out boring. Didn't know whether I was relieved or disappointed when the book suddenly ended barely a third of the way across the country; did he run out of things to say, or did he finally realize just how uninteresting it all was?
Hated this book and any rambling inconsistent and random connection-making stream of consciousness writing like it. This Neal Cassady esque prose isn’t as scatteredly genius as the author believes it sounds.
Great, rambling book about William's road trip with his cousin John. They talk about everything and anything from film and art to "thoughtful animals" and life. A lot of funny and interesting things happen. Funnily, Kerouac always said how influenced he was by Saroyan, but in this book (written in the mid-60s) it seems that Saroyan may have been influenced by Kerouac: it's his most thought-racing, typewriter-zooming, conversation-based novel that I know of, plus it's about two people chattering in a car on a road trip. Sounds familiar, but Saroyan is his usual and unique self, so it doesn't come off as a pastiche at all. Excellent read.