Five stars for the original French edition, a scant three stars for the 1931 English translation by Stuart Gilbert.
It is 1930. South America. As a golden day turns into night, three planes are bound for an air field in Buenos Aires carrying mail from Chile, Paraguay and Patagonia. At the airfield office, the manager and ground crew wait. Across the continent, a vast cyclonic storm system is building.
The story of this night flight is told from several points of view: the pilot bound north from Patagonia on the longest and most hazardous route and the onboard radio operator who is filled with foreboding; on the ground in Buenos Aires, a timorous bureaucratic functionary and another pilot waiting to carry the mail on to Europe. Every hour counts, each one widening the company’s slender time advantage over rail and sea.
At the heart of the story and in the eye of the storm stands Rivière, the manager of this continent-wide venture and the main character. Rivière is a hard man, even a brutal one, who can goad a pilot into facing his fears or whip a ground crew to super-human efforts, all to keep the planes and pilots safely aloft for another few hours.
But tonight Rivière is bedeviled with doubts, feeling his age, second guessing his decisions. Rivière is not a likable character but he is at times admirable and as a study in a kind of leadership that is sometimes needed but has fallen out of favor, he is superb.
I read this novella in the original French, simultaneously with a 1932 English translation by Stuart Gilbert that I used as a sort of oil can and spare tire every time my rusty, rickety French ground to a halt. I am so glad that I persevered with the original.
The rhythm of the language is extraordinary. There are densely poetic passages that take us sweeping across the vast, empty steppes where only a few lights twinkle in the night, or that fly us into the towering cloud walls of a terrible storm. Then, abruptly, the poetry is pushed aside, elbowed out of the way by sharp, spare prose as impatient men force their way through the night, doing impossible jobs with too little gasoline, too little information, too little time...too little time! The dialog is even harsher: raw staccato sentences that rip across the page.
It’s potent, heart-pounding stuff, but alas only in the original.
Let me give you a taste of why I rate this book five stars in French, but only three stars in the Stuart Gilbert translation.
In a flashback, Rivière is firing an old mechanic, a veteran who is guilty of a single error and must be made ‘an example’. The man pleads desperately for the job that is his life, the core of his identity. Rivière's response is curt, implacable:
- Je vous ai dit: je vous offre une place de manoeuvre.
- Ma dignité, Monsieur, ma dignité! Voyons, Monsieur, vingt ans d'aviation ...
- De manoeuvre.
- Je refuse, Monsieur, je refuse!
And here is how the same passage is rendered in English:
“I told you you could have a job as a fitter.”
“But there’s my good name, sir, my name…after twenty years’ experience…”
“As fitter.”
“No, sir, I can’t see my way to that. I somehow can’t, sir!”
An Englishman might have said that last line, but never this proud, anguished French-Argentine mechanic.
I suspect most of the negative reviews are from readers who only read the Gilbert translation and they are not wrong, but if you can read the original even as haltingly as I did you’ll find it terrific. Content rating: Perfectly clean language in both English and French, no sex, no physical violence.
A first fly-over for the South American leg of my Around-the World challenge.