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The Dedalus Book of Surrealism: The Identity of Things
Comprised of works by authors from 17 countries, these volumes provide the most extensive assemblage of surrealist writing, much of which is here translated into English for the first time. "The Identity of Things" introduces surrealism's reworking of the fairy tale and the Gothic novel, its essays in the myths, desires and mysteries underlying modern reality.
"I went to fetch my car, but my chauffeur, who has no sense at all, had just buried it', writes Leonora Carrington in this captivating collection of tales from 17 languages."
The Observer
"I went to fetch my car, but my chauffeur, who has no sense at all, had just buried it', writes Leonora Carrington in this captivating collection of tales from 17 languages."
The Observer
277 pages, Paperback
First published March 18, 1993
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308 people want to read
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Michael Richardson
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Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews
June 14, 2019
Admittedly, this was a bit of a difficult read for me, at least as first. It was my bedtime read, and I figured the dream-like aspect of a lot of Surrealist stuff would be conducive - and it was, perhaps too much so. Partly, though, it has to do with the odd thing this book is trying to achieve. The Surrealists' literary wing has not actually been overlooked but it has lived in the shadow of the visual and plastic arts. This anthology from Dedalus (great publisher for even doing stuff like this) attempts to gather some representative pieces from the wide range of surrealist writers, while still generally attempting to offer pieces that feature "narrative" of some kind or another. The result is dazzling, dizzying and, almost by definition, likely to feature some examples of work that just doesn't "click" with the reader. It also is a bit off-putting that the very first offering, while making sound historical and chronological sense, is an excerpt from André Breton & Philippe Soupault's Magnetic Fields, a seminal Surrealist text written through the process of automatic writing (and if you don't know what that is, check Wikipedia). So, any informed person's expectation of impenetrable stream-of-consciousness writing is essentially confirmed by the very first piece (dense, evocative, interesting and impenetrable, all at the same time!).
But the book really opens up after that. There are 55 pieces here, so I'm not going to give everything its due, but here's a primer - tones and moods to expect: dream-like, nightmarish, fable-like, parodic, satirical, wry, dry, frustrated. Topics to expect: sex, dictators, sex, birds, sex, witches & succubi, sex, religion & religious figures, sex, murder, sex, marriage, sex, naked women and sex. In nothing like that order.
Particularly good:
"Dream:" by Marcel Noll, which has much talk of women and mistresses during dream attendance of play written by Fantomas!!
"Universal Gravitation" by Robert Desnos, which is an extended exercise in nonsense reversal (kind of like the song "Oh, Susanna").
"Letter To An Unknown Person" by Jean Ferry, an eerie letter from a man stranded on an empty island.
"Reverie" by Salvador Dalí, which convinces me that Dali was something like a lucid dreamer (or at least had the ability to conjure visions at will), likely obsessive compulsive and much more of a pervert than I had even previously thought.
"Honeymoon" by Agustin Espinosa, featuring dream-like images of sexual paranoia and misogyny.
"The Gallant Hot Shot" by Paul Nougé, a bitter little comedy sketch about marriage and sport shooting.
"Emilie Comes To Me In My Dreams" by Jindřich Štyrský, which could almost be summed up as "vaginas I have known".
"An Evening At Home" by Mary Low & Juan Breá, which is a comic sketch of the swinging surrealist bachelor gentleman's seduction techniques.
"Simple Tale" by Léo Malet, an odd but inspiring vision of crime and beauty.
"The Town of Eps" by François Valorbe, a black comic sketch about the uncaring rulers in their invisible cars. Quite nice.
"The Chain" by Anneliese Hager, a nightmarish recitation.
"Adela Romantique" by Irène Hamoir, a tale about lost or wayward love featuring a marvelous bird and a dog in a dress (who stabs someone)!
"Dolman The Malefic" by Joyce Mansour, about the origins of an historically important demonic force.
"The Monkey Lover" by Rikki Ducornet, a fable about an abused wife and her granted wish from the Devil.
"Vigil" by Clément Magloire-Saint-Aude, an evocative piece about Haitian death customs.
"The Mirage Child" by Hendrik Cramer, a fable about abortion and the children you don't have.
"Rapa-Nui" by Jean Ferry, a lie told as an anthropological memoir.
"The River Amour" by Roger Caillois, an extended meditation on a vast, fertile river in Siberia, contrasting it with man-made rice paddies and dry zen gardens. Very cool, and the title secretly holds a final underlining of the point.
"The Garden of Eden" by Alberto Savinio, a black humored story about a mad taxidermist.
"The Other" by Marcel Mariën, a horror tale of marital cruelty and murder.
"For The Last Time" by Albert Marenčin, a surprisingly touching dream piece about a relationship fraught with misogyny and misunderstanding.
"A Strange Night" by Lise Deharme, which is almost a parody of the cliched "night in a haunted house" routine.
"The Man" by Gisèle Prassinos, an odd story of a woman who creates mannequins with individual personalities to stave off loneliness.
"Night Windows" by Alain Joubert helpfully provides musical and painting reference points before unveiling a short story about voyeurism that seems to owe something to The Tenant (aka Le Locataire Chimerique) by Roland Topor from 1964, the source novel for the great Roman Polanski film THE TENANT.
and "Proteus Volens" by Marianne Van Hirtum, which was just plain odd!
The best of the anthology were:
"The Hand of Fatima" by Georges Limbour which is like some kind of visionary, hallucinatory horror tale about a trail of bloody hand-prints on city walls, as well as Isis rising.
"The Region of the Heart" by Fernand Dumont, an oneiric piece about castles, nobles, experiments in telepathy, visions and mystic love.
"King Kong" by Andreas Embirikos, in which a jazz band and a movie poster incite a visionary rampage. Philip José Farmer would have liked this one.
"The Oedipal Drip" by Marcel Mariën, a story about a son's symbolic revenge on his dead father.
"Marvels of Will" by Octavio Paz, a little thing about hate.
"Angelus" by Agustin Espinosa, an ominous little tale about a marvelous bird and a cuckold.
"Enter The Succubi" by Louis Aragon, an amazing little treatise on the identification, care and feeding of those selfsame seductive demons. Quite a marvelous little handbook.
"Beware The Panther" by Nelly Kaplan, a great story about a supernatural creature who lives in a museum and how she graduates up to feeding on humans.
"Clorinde" by André Pieyre de Mandiargues, a fable about finding and molesting a miniature woman warrior.
Of course there's more here: the tale of the world's most boring man ("Destiny"); a farce about marriage, switched identities and a shooting ("Long Live The Bride!"); a Lewis Carroll-esque about a reluctant regicide ("The Royal Summons"); another about a dictator and his mass symbolism for mass man ("The Dictator"). There are weird inversions of murder mysteries ("The White Scarf"), fables about the wind ("The Cold Wind of The Night", "The Wind") and books ("This Book"), saints trapped in elevators ("World") and a discussion between the Ego and the Alter-Ego ("The Man In The White Gloves").
All in all, a thoroughly entertaining and adventurous read. Still not sure (or as sure as the editor seems in his intro, at least) about what the limits of Surrealism are, but it's stimulating sifting through all these examples.
But the book really opens up after that. There are 55 pieces here, so I'm not going to give everything its due, but here's a primer - tones and moods to expect: dream-like, nightmarish, fable-like, parodic, satirical, wry, dry, frustrated. Topics to expect: sex, dictators, sex, birds, sex, witches & succubi, sex, religion & religious figures, sex, murder, sex, marriage, sex, naked women and sex. In nothing like that order.
Particularly good:
"Dream:" by Marcel Noll, which has much talk of women and mistresses during dream attendance of play written by Fantomas!!
"Universal Gravitation" by Robert Desnos, which is an extended exercise in nonsense reversal (kind of like the song "Oh, Susanna").
"Letter To An Unknown Person" by Jean Ferry, an eerie letter from a man stranded on an empty island.
"Reverie" by Salvador Dalí, which convinces me that Dali was something like a lucid dreamer (or at least had the ability to conjure visions at will), likely obsessive compulsive and much more of a pervert than I had even previously thought.
"Honeymoon" by Agustin Espinosa, featuring dream-like images of sexual paranoia and misogyny.
"The Gallant Hot Shot" by Paul Nougé, a bitter little comedy sketch about marriage and sport shooting.
"Emilie Comes To Me In My Dreams" by Jindřich Štyrský, which could almost be summed up as "vaginas I have known".
"An Evening At Home" by Mary Low & Juan Breá, which is a comic sketch of the swinging surrealist bachelor gentleman's seduction techniques.
"Simple Tale" by Léo Malet, an odd but inspiring vision of crime and beauty.
"The Town of Eps" by François Valorbe, a black comic sketch about the uncaring rulers in their invisible cars. Quite nice.
"The Chain" by Anneliese Hager, a nightmarish recitation.
"Adela Romantique" by Irène Hamoir, a tale about lost or wayward love featuring a marvelous bird and a dog in a dress (who stabs someone)!
"Dolman The Malefic" by Joyce Mansour, about the origins of an historically important demonic force.
"The Monkey Lover" by Rikki Ducornet, a fable about an abused wife and her granted wish from the Devil.
"Vigil" by Clément Magloire-Saint-Aude, an evocative piece about Haitian death customs.
"The Mirage Child" by Hendrik Cramer, a fable about abortion and the children you don't have.
"Rapa-Nui" by Jean Ferry, a lie told as an anthropological memoir.
"The River Amour" by Roger Caillois, an extended meditation on a vast, fertile river in Siberia, contrasting it with man-made rice paddies and dry zen gardens. Very cool, and the title secretly holds a final underlining of the point.
"The Garden of Eden" by Alberto Savinio, a black humored story about a mad taxidermist.
"The Other" by Marcel Mariën, a horror tale of marital cruelty and murder.
"For The Last Time" by Albert Marenčin, a surprisingly touching dream piece about a relationship fraught with misogyny and misunderstanding.
"A Strange Night" by Lise Deharme, which is almost a parody of the cliched "night in a haunted house" routine.
"The Man" by Gisèle Prassinos, an odd story of a woman who creates mannequins with individual personalities to stave off loneliness.
"Night Windows" by Alain Joubert helpfully provides musical and painting reference points before unveiling a short story about voyeurism that seems to owe something to The Tenant (aka Le Locataire Chimerique) by Roland Topor from 1964, the source novel for the great Roman Polanski film THE TENANT.
and "Proteus Volens" by Marianne Van Hirtum, which was just plain odd!
The best of the anthology were:
"The Hand of Fatima" by Georges Limbour which is like some kind of visionary, hallucinatory horror tale about a trail of bloody hand-prints on city walls, as well as Isis rising.
"The Region of the Heart" by Fernand Dumont, an oneiric piece about castles, nobles, experiments in telepathy, visions and mystic love.
"King Kong" by Andreas Embirikos, in which a jazz band and a movie poster incite a visionary rampage. Philip José Farmer would have liked this one.
"The Oedipal Drip" by Marcel Mariën, a story about a son's symbolic revenge on his dead father.
"Marvels of Will" by Octavio Paz, a little thing about hate.
"Angelus" by Agustin Espinosa, an ominous little tale about a marvelous bird and a cuckold.
"Enter The Succubi" by Louis Aragon, an amazing little treatise on the identification, care and feeding of those selfsame seductive demons. Quite a marvelous little handbook.
"Beware The Panther" by Nelly Kaplan, a great story about a supernatural creature who lives in a museum and how she graduates up to feeding on humans.
"Clorinde" by André Pieyre de Mandiargues, a fable about finding and molesting a miniature woman warrior.
Of course there's more here: the tale of the world's most boring man ("Destiny"); a farce about marriage, switched identities and a shooting ("Long Live The Bride!"); a Lewis Carroll-esque about a reluctant regicide ("The Royal Summons"); another about a dictator and his mass symbolism for mass man ("The Dictator"). There are weird inversions of murder mysteries ("The White Scarf"), fables about the wind ("The Cold Wind of The Night", "The Wind") and books ("This Book"), saints trapped in elevators ("World") and a discussion between the Ego and the Alter-Ego ("The Man In The White Gloves").
All in all, a thoroughly entertaining and adventurous read. Still not sure (or as sure as the editor seems in his intro, at least) about what the limits of Surrealism are, but it's stimulating sifting through all these examples.
July 4, 2012
Seemingly the ideal surrealist anthology for me -- while spanning the 20th century and seventeen countries it hones directly in on typically underrepresented surrealist prose fiction, veering around poetry and theory essays, both well represented elsewhere and generally less thrilling to me. Of course, these aren't always thrilling either (inevitably, there are a number that read like strings of barely-related images or disjointed accounts dreams (which may be exactly what they are)) but there are also gems, strange and unique in the manner that sent me chasing surrealist texts in the first place, and often otherwise unavailable in translation, making this and its companion second volume pretty priceless collections. Now, hopefully the real finds in here can lead me on to other works from those writers. Notes of the contents, mostly for my own reference:
Andre Breton and Philippe Soupault, "White Gloves": evidentally from the first specifically surrealist prose work, Les Champs Magnetiques. Probably of more historical relevance than actual writing interest, which I suppose is to be expected. Sets the early chaotic dream-image template.
Raymond Queneau, "Destiny": Queneau later broke with the surrealists and, later, formed the oulipo. Given that even he finds his "story" here boring, it's not so hard to imagine that his muse lay elsewhere.
Jean Ferry, "Letter to an Unknown Person": Apparently best known as a screenwriter, my only brush with him in that area was his dialogue for Daughters of Darkness. But his story here was the first real stand-out, an attempt to describe and warn of a strange island mistakenly disembarked at:
Salvidor Dali, "Reverie": I'm actually not such a fan of many of Dali's paintings, but this dissection of his desires, in which he meticulously maps out a series of scenes in an old home, mentally burning down walls and moving the sun to ensure the optimal tableaux will come before his voyeuristic inner eye. It feels extremely honest and exposed in some way, and is somewhat disconcerting for that, but perhaps everyone's inner lives are disconcerting when written out.
Fernand Dumont, "The Region of the Heart": A favorite, a strange voyage to a castle out of time and place. Has more of a stable narrative dirve than much of the early surrealist period.
Jindrich Styrsky, "Emilie Comes to Me in a Dream": Czech collagist, passionate dream diarist and publisher of Edition 69. I think this partiuclar dream-vision of his dead sister was included in that other volume, but it may just be that Styrsky's sister was a frequent player in his sleep-scenes, as seems to have been the case.
Rene Menil, "The Dictator": A key representative, with Suzanne and Aime Cesaire, of the surprisingly influential Martiniquan surrealism that spawned the Tropiques series of journals during WWII. Here detailing a speech by a despot who orders his subjects to be free, accompanied by detailed descriptions of a kind of mirror-based light show. Inaugurates a series of dictator-based pieces here.
Leonora Carrington, "The Royal Summons": which is already a favorite of crazed nobility and court plotting, from her among her earliest pieces collected in The Oval Lady.
Bejamin Peret: whose often somewhat automatic-sounding texts are nonetheless full of charm. Unlike nearly all the others here, there's a book of his stories in English! In print, even! I saw it at the Strand!
Francois Valorbe, "In the Town of Eps": oh those uncaring aristocrats and their ever-hazardous invisible cars. Slight, but amusing.
Lise Deharme, "The Wind": "People are not as wary of the wind as they should be." A kind of explanation and variation on the wind, becoming a fairy tale, rather more grounded despite its airy topic than many of the brief stories surrounding it. I'd love to read one of Deharme's 12 (!) novels, but none have been translated from French, sadly.
Octavio Paz, "Marvels of Will": Previously I'd known the Mexican poet via Bolano's apparent contempt for him in The Savage Detectives, but here, a brief effective piece on the dangers of words.
Anneliese Hager, "The Chain": Probably one of the dream-recorders of the bunch, but if so, her dreams have a rare conceptual cohesion and eerie sense of place.
Agustin Espinoza: Founded a surrealist group in the canary islands and authored two fever-dreams here, both seemingly driven by bitterness over failed relationships, but rendered with such fervent images as to become interesting. I like the second, "Angelus", in particular: a strange vision that presages a murder, fittingly taken from his 1934 collection Crimen.
Louis Aragon, "Enter the Succubus": Another of the major early players 20s surrealism, later plummeted from grace. This was my first encounter with him, via a helpful classification and description of several types of succubi.
Nelly Kaplan, "Beware the Panther": as with Lise Deharme, I've been desperate to read some Kaplan ever since hearing of her in Surrealist Women: An International Anthology, but nothing of hers is in English besides a film theory book on Abel Gance (with whom she worked upon arriving in Paris from Argentina, drawn there by the ruins of a Temple of Isis, if I'm recalling her strange bio). Anyway, the excerpt there from one of her novels (Mémoires d'une liseuse de draps, 1974) was fantastic, as is this this personal account by an ageless were-creature from her debut story collection (Le Réservoir des sens, 1966). This is another case that is going to drive me to an attempt to read in French for the first time in years, I can see. At least her films have been translated. (Surrealist Women believes her to be the only female director of feature films!)
Joyce Mansour, "Dolman the Malefic": The Egyptian writer's account of a lesser demon harried by the Devil's amorous designs tends towards the messy and chaotic a bit, but some of the descriptions tend that way in the most memorable way:
Rikki Ducornet, "The Monkey Lover": A fairy tale from "Baclava", supposedly, but the apparent non-existence of any non-food baclava suggests that Ducornet's story of unsuitable marriage is her own. From The Complete Butcher’s Tales which I'd like to read soon.
Hendrik Cramer, "The Mirage-Child": Dutch-born traveler and folklorist, here fashioning his own cautionary tale from bits equally at home in Yoruba or Inuit myth, among, probably, many others.
Julien Gracq, "The Cold Wind of the Night": The slightest descriptive vignette, but Gracq is one of the few surrealists with multiple translated novels so much more to be had where this came from.
Andre Pieyre de Mandiargues, "Clorinde": Opening a sequence of strong, tragic-hued stories on destroyed loves, an example of how not to treat people you've just met, unless you want them to be devoured by birds. He wrote several novels and stories developed into cult (though I'd say lackluster) films by Walerian Borowczyk, it seems, but they've been translated into English at least.
Alberto Savinio, "The Garden of Eden": A rather unsettling story about the eternal search for perfection, embodied by capturing ephemeral life in eternal preservation. Thematically not so far from the third part of Taxidermia, but opening with a long humorous discussion of a novelty shop in order to set up those themes. Incidentally, the brother of de Chirco.
Marcel Marian, "The Other": of these last three, this one really ramps up into disturbia. Good, but actually horrifying.
Lise Deharme, "A Strange Night": Also great, a postcard from an off-season hotel, again, why is no one translating Deharme? Must I try to do it myself?
Andre Breton and Philippe Soupault, "White Gloves": evidentally from the first specifically surrealist prose work, Les Champs Magnetiques. Probably of more historical relevance than actual writing interest, which I suppose is to be expected. Sets the early chaotic dream-image template.
Raymond Queneau, "Destiny": Queneau later broke with the surrealists and, later, formed the oulipo. Given that even he finds his "story" here boring, it's not so hard to imagine that his muse lay elsewhere.
Jean Ferry, "Letter to an Unknown Person": Apparently best known as a screenwriter, my only brush with him in that area was his dialogue for Daughters of Darkness. But his story here was the first real stand-out, an attempt to describe and warn of a strange island mistakenly disembarked at:
You must have experienced the sensation of stepping forward in the darkness, thinking that it is the last step on the stairs only to find that it isn't there. You are thrown momentarily into a state of complete disarray. Or when, in your bed, no matter how much care you take before falling asleep, your legs suddenly slacken and you fall you don't know where. Ah well, in this country it's always like that. Everything is made of the same material as that absent step.
Salvidor Dali, "Reverie": I'm actually not such a fan of many of Dali's paintings, but this dissection of his desires, in which he meticulously maps out a series of scenes in an old home, mentally burning down walls and moving the sun to ensure the optimal tableaux will come before his voyeuristic inner eye. It feels extremely honest and exposed in some way, and is somewhat disconcerting for that, but perhaps everyone's inner lives are disconcerting when written out.
Fernand Dumont, "The Region of the Heart": A favorite, a strange voyage to a castle out of time and place. Has more of a stable narrative dirve than much of the early surrealist period.
Jindrich Styrsky, "Emilie Comes to Me in a Dream": Czech collagist, passionate dream diarist and publisher of Edition 69. I think this partiuclar dream-vision of his dead sister was included in that other volume, but it may just be that Styrsky's sister was a frequent player in his sleep-scenes, as seems to have been the case.
Rene Menil, "The Dictator": A key representative, with Suzanne and Aime Cesaire, of the surprisingly influential Martiniquan surrealism that spawned the Tropiques series of journals during WWII. Here detailing a speech by a despot who orders his subjects to be free, accompanied by detailed descriptions of a kind of mirror-based light show. Inaugurates a series of dictator-based pieces here.
Leonora Carrington, "The Royal Summons": which is already a favorite of crazed nobility and court plotting, from her among her earliest pieces collected in The Oval Lady.
Bejamin Peret: whose often somewhat automatic-sounding texts are nonetheless full of charm. Unlike nearly all the others here, there's a book of his stories in English! In print, even! I saw it at the Strand!
Francois Valorbe, "In the Town of Eps": oh those uncaring aristocrats and their ever-hazardous invisible cars. Slight, but amusing.
Lise Deharme, "The Wind": "People are not as wary of the wind as they should be." A kind of explanation and variation on the wind, becoming a fairy tale, rather more grounded despite its airy topic than many of the brief stories surrounding it. I'd love to read one of Deharme's 12 (!) novels, but none have been translated from French, sadly.
Octavio Paz, "Marvels of Will": Previously I'd known the Mexican poet via Bolano's apparent contempt for him in The Savage Detectives, but here, a brief effective piece on the dangers of words.
Anneliese Hager, "The Chain": Probably one of the dream-recorders of the bunch, but if so, her dreams have a rare conceptual cohesion and eerie sense of place.
When I open my eyes again, everything has gone. I stand and glare at a black lake. On the shore is a bench -- when I am about to sit down the lake has gone and the bank is a high staircase with many steps. To the left and right black walls. At the very top a little light shines through a crack.
Agustin Espinoza: Founded a surrealist group in the canary islands and authored two fever-dreams here, both seemingly driven by bitterness over failed relationships, but rendered with such fervent images as to become interesting. I like the second, "Angelus", in particular: a strange vision that presages a murder, fittingly taken from his 1934 collection Crimen.
Louis Aragon, "Enter the Succubus": Another of the major early players 20s surrealism, later plummeted from grace. This was my first encounter with him, via a helpful classification and description of several types of succubi.
Nelly Kaplan, "Beware the Panther": as with Lise Deharme, I've been desperate to read some Kaplan ever since hearing of her in Surrealist Women: An International Anthology, but nothing of hers is in English besides a film theory book on Abel Gance (with whom she worked upon arriving in Paris from Argentina, drawn there by the ruins of a Temple of Isis, if I'm recalling her strange bio). Anyway, the excerpt there from one of her novels (Mémoires d'une liseuse de draps, 1974) was fantastic, as is this this personal account by an ageless were-creature from her debut story collection (Le Réservoir des sens, 1966). This is another case that is going to drive me to an attempt to read in French for the first time in years, I can see. At least her films have been translated. (Surrealist Women believes her to be the only female director of feature films!)
Joyce Mansour, "Dolman the Malefic": The Egyptian writer's account of a lesser demon harried by the Devil's amorous designs tends towards the messy and chaotic a bit, but some of the descriptions tend that way in the most memorable way:
He soaked completely in artificially purulent wounds, tried to lose himself in abominable orgies of frenzy that almost always ended with the bloody death of the actors or the birth of a mutant: boredom still ceaselessly imposed itself.
Rikki Ducornet, "The Monkey Lover": A fairy tale from "Baclava", supposedly, but the apparent non-existence of any non-food baclava suggests that Ducornet's story of unsuitable marriage is her own. From The Complete Butcher’s Tales which I'd like to read soon.
Hendrik Cramer, "The Mirage-Child": Dutch-born traveler and folklorist, here fashioning his own cautionary tale from bits equally at home in Yoruba or Inuit myth, among, probably, many others.
Julien Gracq, "The Cold Wind of the Night": The slightest descriptive vignette, but Gracq is one of the few surrealists with multiple translated novels so much more to be had where this came from.
Andre Pieyre de Mandiargues, "Clorinde": Opening a sequence of strong, tragic-hued stories on destroyed loves, an example of how not to treat people you've just met, unless you want them to be devoured by birds. He wrote several novels and stories developed into cult (though I'd say lackluster) films by Walerian Borowczyk, it seems, but they've been translated into English at least.
Alberto Savinio, "The Garden of Eden": A rather unsettling story about the eternal search for perfection, embodied by capturing ephemeral life in eternal preservation. Thematically not so far from the third part of Taxidermia, but opening with a long humorous discussion of a novelty shop in order to set up those themes. Incidentally, the brother of de Chirco.
Marcel Marian, "The Other": of these last three, this one really ramps up into disturbia. Good, but actually horrifying.
Lise Deharme, "A Strange Night": Also great, a postcard from an off-season hotel, again, why is no one translating Deharme? Must I try to do it myself?
February 28, 2022
Was fascinated by how all this average writing ever got published. Might have also something to do with the French > English translation, but still. Surreal...
December 10, 2015
enjoy
i wish : i want to stay here
i wish : this be enough
i wish : i only love you
i wish : simplicity
look at the speed out there
it magnetizes me to it
and i have no fear
i'm only into this to
enjoy
i wish i'd only look
and didn't have to touch
i wish i'd only smell this
and didn't have to taste
how can i ignore?
this is sex without touching
i'm going to explore
i'm only into this to
enjoy
- björk
i wish : i want to stay here
i wish : this be enough
i wish : i only love you
i wish : simplicity
look at the speed out there
it magnetizes me to it
and i have no fear
i'm only into this to
enjoy
i wish i'd only look
and didn't have to touch
i wish i'd only smell this
and didn't have to taste
how can i ignore?
this is sex without touching
i'm going to explore
i'm only into this to
enjoy
- björk
September 24, 2010
Like any collection of short stories, this is a mixture of the good and bad. Actually, in this case, also the weird and weirder. I liked a lot, a lot I found pointless, but not being 'versed' in Surrealism well, as it were, I can't expect much else. That said, I've had my appetite whetted.
Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews