Les Fruits du Congo

by Alexandre Vialatte

Les fruits du Congo, c'est une affiche. Elle représente une magnifique négresse qui porte des citrons d'or. Les collégiens d'une ville d'Auvergne rêvent devant cette affiche qui symbolise pour eux l'aventure et l'extrême poésie de l'existence. Qu'est-ce que l'adolescence ? Telle est la question à laquelle Alexandre Vialatte répond avec ce grand roman qui décrit aussi toute une ville de province avec ses kermesses, son assassin, son docteur, son lycée, son square.

474 pages, Mass Market Paperback

First published January 1, 1951

Reviews

[Sean Hartnett · Rating 2 out of 5]

I don't recommend reading this. Really, I feel totally cheated by Vialatte; he starts on a gripping, quirky and sincere note with one of the book's most likeable and interesting characters (Docteur Peyrolles) and one of its most memorable literary images (Fred standing soaking wet at the bottom of the stairs), and then unflinchingly procedes to bamboozle me with 450 tedious pages that really should have been 200 breezy ones. What on earth went wrong with the sloppy execution of the plot? I was so bored at certain stages, and the beauty of the language, of the impeccable sentence construction couldn't save it. There are beautiful moments here, but they are tucked under mountains of hot air and guff. To paraphrase another Goodreads Reviewer, I also regret the great novel that could have been.

[Dalla carta allo schermo · Rating 4 out of 5]

Questo romanzo è musica. Struggente e dolce musica che racconta la storia di Frédéric e Dora. Frédéric, detto Fred, è uno studente liceale troppo alto e troppo magro che indossa un'incongrua bombetta al posto del tradizionale berretto dell'epoca e nipote del dottor Lamourette che tratta il ragazzo come un malattia. Il suo tempo libero lo passa al club dei “Piaceri della Corea”, incontri periodici di scolari che si abbuffano di parole e di sogni e che immaginano di domare i malvagi trucchi del Destino incarnandolo in un personaggio immaginario, chiamato Mr. Panado. Fred si innamora di una ragazza molto giovane che si fa chiamare Dora e il cui vero nome e le origini vengono a galla man mano che la lettura procede. Qui la sessualità non conta nulla. Tutto è solo sguardi, sospiri ed emozioni. Purtroppo tutto finirà in tragedia perché, a questa età, tutto è dramma e il signor Panado non molla mai la presa.
Un romanzo atipico caratterizzato da una scrittura poetica e malinconica piena di cieli sognanti e stelle cadenti che si ama o si odia, ma che non lascia indifferenti.

Recensione completa nel blog www.dallacartalloschermo.com

[Pascale · Rating 2 out of 5]

This book is full of gorgeous sentences. Much too full, unfortunately. This reads more like 3 or 4 drafts of the same novel than as a whole novel. Although the book does have a plot, it is overstuffed with descriptions, in turns humorous and lyrical, many of them worthy of an anthology, but totally indigestible sequentially. The story revolves around 2 characters, Dora and Frédéric. Both Frédéric and the narrator idealize Dora, part tomboy and part Fairy Queen, who reigns over a rag-tag army of street urchins in the seediest, therefore most poetic suburbs of a sleepy provincial town. In truth, Dora is called Marthe and is desperate to leave behind the sleepy town and her alcoholic mother. The strongest section of the book is Part III, which takes place during a church fête where Frédéric raises a lot of money, dressed an Indian Chief. Just before the event, Dora, having failed to keep a date with Frédéric, has made him so mad he's sped through a railroad crossing, thereby possibly hurting someone. Throughout the fair, Frédéric wonders whether he may have run over Dora at the railroad crossing, and eventually he goes to confess his crime to a benevolent priest. In fact, Dora, like her mother, has been killed by Vingtrinier, an out-of-work lawyer who was Dora's mother's drinking buddy. Unable to shake the idea that he is responsible for Dora's disappearance, Frédéric boards the night train to Marseille, gets ripped off and left for dead by a card sharp, and joins the army. This, in itself, would make a good novel, but Vialatte doesn't know how to leave well alone. Although some of his ramblings are truly inspired, I found it impossible to keep up with his logorrhea. The laughably endless "Epilogue" (over 60 pages!) goes on and on about "Monsieur Panado", a mythical character who seems to represent alternately fate, evil and a score of other concepts. It's a real pity nobody dared take scissors to this manuscript an edit it into shape because sunk in this magma, there is a wonderfully warm-hearted, nostalgic and whimsical coming-of-age story.

[LiberoLibro · Rating 3 out of 5]

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