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The Compass Stone
English, Spanish (translation)
165 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1985
2 people are currently reading
101 people want to read
About the author
Fernando Arrabal
221 books103 followersFernando Arrabal Terán (born August 11, 1932 in Melilla, Spain) is a Spanish playwright, screenwriter, film director, novelist and poet. He settled in France in 1955, he describes himself as “desterrado,” or “half-expatriate, half-exiled.”
Arrabal has directed seven full-length feature films; he has published over 100 plays, 14 novels, 800 poetry collections, chapbooks, and artist’s books; several essays, and his notorious “Letter to General Franco” during the dictator’s lifetime. His complete plays have been published in a number of languages, in a two-volume edition totaling over two thousand pages. The New York Times theatre critic Mel Gussow has called Arrabal the last survivor among the “three avatars of modernism.”
In 1962 Arrabal co-founded the Panic Movement with Alejandro Jodorowsky and Roland Topor, inspired by the god Pan, and was elected Transcendent Satrap of the Collège de Pataphysique in 1990. Forty other Transcendent Satraps have been elected over the past half-century, including Marcel Duchamp, Eugène Ionesco, Man Ray, Boris Vian, Dario Fo, Umberto Eco and Jean Baudrillard.
Arrabal has directed seven full-length feature films; he has published over 100 plays, 14 novels, 800 poetry collections, chapbooks, and artist’s books; several essays, and his notorious “Letter to General Franco” during the dictator’s lifetime. His complete plays have been published in a number of languages, in a two-volume edition totaling over two thousand pages. The New York Times theatre critic Mel Gussow has called Arrabal the last survivor among the “three avatars of modernism.”
In 1962 Arrabal co-founded the Panic Movement with Alejandro Jodorowsky and Roland Topor, inspired by the god Pan, and was elected Transcendent Satrap of the Collège de Pataphysique in 1990. Forty other Transcendent Satraps have been elected over the past half-century, including Marcel Duchamp, Eugène Ionesco, Man Ray, Boris Vian, Dario Fo, Umberto Eco and Jean Baudrillard.
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Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
August 31, 2009
A warning! Not for the faint of heart!
The Compass Stone tells the story of a young woman who lives in a 'dysfunctional' family unit and has a relentless taste for blood, death and a penchant for sado-masochism.
As the above may indicate, the book is extremely dark. Written in an almost dream-like manner, the narrative is penned in the first person by the woman as she catalogues her sexual adventures with unsuspecting men. During these encounters she sets out to murder them taking great pleasure in the act of their death.
We are also shown the other side of her life which is almost as surreal as her sexual encounters. In her spare time off from her sexual fantasies (or realities? ), she observes the insects in her greenhouse and, in minute detail, recalls their habitats, habits and lives. She also gives us glimpses of an unusual family relationship where she isolates herself from her sisters who care for her dominating and bullying father. Questions about the family situation always remain as we are merely left with hints about the family dynamics, especially her fathers relationship with his daughters. The narrative also explores, first hand, her views as she philosophises about love, hate, death, good and evil.
The Compass Stone is a wonderfully surreal book. I would like to say I 'enjoyed' it, however, the subject matter relating to the murders is not something one would 'enjoy'. That said, I found it an extremely thought provoking and beautifully written book.
I was always left with a sense of disbelief and questioning. Is the young woman actually living this life? Are the murders she commits real? Are her sexual fantasies being played out for real? Or is it the active imagination of a young woman exploring her sexual fantasies or building an imaginary world around her as a means of escaping the reality of her life. Right up to the end of the book I was unable to decide. This still remains today!
A wonderfully imaginative, thought-provoking, dark and atmospheric book written with such ease and poetic mastery
The Compass Stone tells the story of a young woman who lives in a 'dysfunctional' family unit and has a relentless taste for blood, death and a penchant for sado-masochism.
As the above may indicate, the book is extremely dark. Written in an almost dream-like manner, the narrative is penned in the first person by the woman as she catalogues her sexual adventures with unsuspecting men. During these encounters she sets out to murder them taking great pleasure in the act of their death.
We are also shown the other side of her life which is almost as surreal as her sexual encounters. In her spare time off from her sexual fantasies (or realities? ), she observes the insects in her greenhouse and, in minute detail, recalls their habitats, habits and lives. She also gives us glimpses of an unusual family relationship where she isolates herself from her sisters who care for her dominating and bullying father. Questions about the family situation always remain as we are merely left with hints about the family dynamics, especially her fathers relationship with his daughters. The narrative also explores, first hand, her views as she philosophises about love, hate, death, good and evil.
The Compass Stone is a wonderfully surreal book. I would like to say I 'enjoyed' it, however, the subject matter relating to the murders is not something one would 'enjoy'. That said, I found it an extremely thought provoking and beautifully written book.
I was always left with a sense of disbelief and questioning. Is the young woman actually living this life? Are the murders she commits real? Are her sexual fantasies being played out for real? Or is it the active imagination of a young woman exploring her sexual fantasies or building an imaginary world around her as a means of escaping the reality of her life. Right up to the end of the book I was unable to decide. This still remains today!
A wonderfully imaginative, thought-provoking, dark and atmospheric book written with such ease and poetic mastery
January 18, 2022
I wanted to like this book. I have read and enjoyed Fernando Arrabal's plays, and I am fascinated by the Panic Movement (which he founded alongside Roland Topor and Alejandro Jodorowsky). But ultimately I was disappointed.
The Panic Movement was a response to Surrealism becoming mainstream. The movement was founded, not in opposition, but in support of the Surrealists. Indeed, the Panic movement is indebted. They may have deviated from the original intention of Surrealism (that is, André Breton's exclusive and restrictive notion of Surrealism), but their formation represents the continuity of
Of the Surrealists, the Panic Movement is most conspicuously influenced by Luis Buñuel. Surrealism as interpreted by Buñuel is, in turn, informed by the writings of the Marquis de Sade and Jean-Henri Fabre.
Sade wrote about sex.
Fabre wrote about insects.
That said, Arrabal's THE COMPASS STONE falls short of Buñuel and the Marquis de Sade (but that's setting the bar impossibly high). Arrabal even falls short of Fabre.
Like Sade's "120 Days of Sodom", a party is arranged at a Castle, the nature of which is summarized in the invitation...
"The most depraved couples in the world are on their way to the Castle in aircraft loaded with cauliflower, tacks, and prie-dieux. I will only admit sublime sadomasochists or frenzied paranoids. it will be the most maddeningly delicious and edible evening of the century in the most irrational and mystical nation of the universe. I send you my most supergelatinous and putrescent devotion." (pg. 87)
Like Fabre, Arrabal writes lengthy descriptions of insects. His protagonist, the murderess, is preoccupied with insects and frequently relates insect behavior with human behavior...
"The insects of the greenhouse could emit sounds produced by rubbing their antennae or their legs or their wings together. In these sounds one might glimpse the path leading from them to the words of today." (pg. 99)
Buñuel's used insects sparingly. They are like footnotes in his films. He is not Fabre, and he doesn't try to be. Arrabal, on the other hand, writes about insects exhaustively. It may be contextually relevant, but it quickly becomes tiresome.
Another device exhausted by Arrabal is the narrator's proclivity for asking questions. This device may demonstrate character and provide commentary on the events, but Arrabal writes it into the ground...
"Did the television possess hallucinogenic qualities? Did it operate on its viewers to produce behaviour modifications? From what moment did the Maimed One pay less attention to the Sisters' offerings and more to the screen? For how long would offerings and adoration coexist and combine?" (pg. 145)
One chapter, a chapter dedicated to the description of seppuku and the mythology the murderess has built around her garden, begins "Why did K. show me in such precise detail how he would bring about his own sacrifice?"
I found myself asking something along the same lines... "Why did Arrabal tell me in such exhaustive detail matters of relative insignificance?" (Upon finishing the novel, I have confirmed that they are of relative insignificance.)
The answer is simple. Arrabal used the complexity of the seppuku to elevate the mythology the murderess has built around her garden. And yet, reading the chapter left me fatigued. It was the turning point of the novel. After this chapter, I became increasingly disinterested. The action became predictable. The commentary became obvious. Even the "120 Day of Sodom" scenario fell short of any expectations. This may have been intentional, the narrator's disinterest in sex providing contextual relevance. But the party at the castle that should have delivered a climax instead failed to deliver, disappointed with its anticlimax.
Something I liked about the novel was its epistolary form. The text narrated by the murderess is presented as a found document. The finder prefaces the text with a description, with a drawing of the house where the murderess lived (her garden, etc...), and a disclaimer regarding the text's disturbing contents. The text exhibits familiar attributes of the epistolary novel, most notably the withholding of names. The murderess's father is called "the Maimed One". There are four men in the murderess's life, they are Mr. K (who, immersing himself in Eastern culture, sets the tone of the murderess's voice, preoccupied as they both are with questions), Mr. S (who follows the murders closely, to the point of obsession), Mr. P (from whom the murderess first obtained her murder weapon), and Mr. D (who hosts the party at the castle).
But overall, my recommendation would be for any reader interested in Arrabal or the Panic Movement to skip this novel and instead read Arrabal's plays, specifically those collected in GUERNICA AND OTHER PLAYS.
The Panic Movement was a response to Surrealism becoming mainstream. The movement was founded, not in opposition, but in support of the Surrealists. Indeed, the Panic movement is indebted. They may have deviated from the original intention of Surrealism (that is, André Breton's exclusive and restrictive notion of Surrealism), but their formation represents the continuity of
Of the Surrealists, the Panic Movement is most conspicuously influenced by Luis Buñuel. Surrealism as interpreted by Buñuel is, in turn, informed by the writings of the Marquis de Sade and Jean-Henri Fabre.
Sade wrote about sex.
Fabre wrote about insects.
That said, Arrabal's THE COMPASS STONE falls short of Buñuel and the Marquis de Sade (but that's setting the bar impossibly high). Arrabal even falls short of Fabre.
Like Sade's "120 Days of Sodom", a party is arranged at a Castle, the nature of which is summarized in the invitation...
"The most depraved couples in the world are on their way to the Castle in aircraft loaded with cauliflower, tacks, and prie-dieux. I will only admit sublime sadomasochists or frenzied paranoids. it will be the most maddeningly delicious and edible evening of the century in the most irrational and mystical nation of the universe. I send you my most supergelatinous and putrescent devotion." (pg. 87)
Like Fabre, Arrabal writes lengthy descriptions of insects. His protagonist, the murderess, is preoccupied with insects and frequently relates insect behavior with human behavior...
"The insects of the greenhouse could emit sounds produced by rubbing their antennae or their legs or their wings together. In these sounds one might glimpse the path leading from them to the words of today." (pg. 99)
Buñuel's used insects sparingly. They are like footnotes in his films. He is not Fabre, and he doesn't try to be. Arrabal, on the other hand, writes about insects exhaustively. It may be contextually relevant, but it quickly becomes tiresome.
Another device exhausted by Arrabal is the narrator's proclivity for asking questions. This device may demonstrate character and provide commentary on the events, but Arrabal writes it into the ground...
"Did the television possess hallucinogenic qualities? Did it operate on its viewers to produce behaviour modifications? From what moment did the Maimed One pay less attention to the Sisters' offerings and more to the screen? For how long would offerings and adoration coexist and combine?" (pg. 145)
One chapter, a chapter dedicated to the description of seppuku and the mythology the murderess has built around her garden, begins "Why did K. show me in such precise detail how he would bring about his own sacrifice?"
I found myself asking something along the same lines... "Why did Arrabal tell me in such exhaustive detail matters of relative insignificance?" (Upon finishing the novel, I have confirmed that they are of relative insignificance.)
The answer is simple. Arrabal used the complexity of the seppuku to elevate the mythology the murderess has built around her garden. And yet, reading the chapter left me fatigued. It was the turning point of the novel. After this chapter, I became increasingly disinterested. The action became predictable. The commentary became obvious. Even the "120 Day of Sodom" scenario fell short of any expectations. This may have been intentional, the narrator's disinterest in sex providing contextual relevance. But the party at the castle that should have delivered a climax instead failed to deliver, disappointed with its anticlimax.
Something I liked about the novel was its epistolary form. The text narrated by the murderess is presented as a found document. The finder prefaces the text with a description, with a drawing of the house where the murderess lived (her garden, etc...), and a disclaimer regarding the text's disturbing contents. The text exhibits familiar attributes of the epistolary novel, most notably the withholding of names. The murderess's father is called "the Maimed One". There are four men in the murderess's life, they are Mr. K (who, immersing himself in Eastern culture, sets the tone of the murderess's voice, preoccupied as they both are with questions), Mr. S (who follows the murders closely, to the point of obsession), Mr. P (from whom the murderess first obtained her murder weapon), and Mr. D (who hosts the party at the castle).
But overall, my recommendation would be for any reader interested in Arrabal or the Panic Movement to skip this novel and instead read Arrabal's plays, specifically those collected in GUERNICA AND OTHER PLAYS.
June 4, 2024
forgot to log this but yeah unfortunate. one of my least favorite things in writing is when someone asks a really interesting question, for example, what is the meaning of life? but doesn’t answer it. Asking questions is the easy part! This book, literally not joking, had around 20 of these kinds of questions per page. And almost none of them were answered. Sigh
July 23, 2023
"You can find all of Shakespeare and de Sade in the lives of insects" - Luis Buñuel
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews