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La Liseuse
"Regardez, le texte s'ouvre. - Et j'avance comment ? - On tourne les pages dans le coin d'en bas avec le doigt. - Comme un bouquin ? - Oui, c'est le côté ringard du truc. Une concession pour les vieux. Quand on se souviendra plus des livres, on se demandera bien pourquoi on avance comme ça. Autant défiler vertical. Scroller. Ce serait plus logique. - C'est Kerouac qui va être content". Robert Dubois, éditeur de la vieille garde, se voit remettre une liseuse par une stagiaire.
Quelque chose couve qui pourrait être une révolution et cette perspective le fait sourire. Un roman aussi tendre que drôle sur ce que lire veut dire.
Quelque chose couve qui pourrait être une révolution et cette perspective le fait sourire. Un roman aussi tendre que drôle sur ce que lire veut dire.
192 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 4, 2012
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432 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 56 reviews
October 8, 2015
Boy meets girl... not really
This is a read for those interested in how books are published. It's not full of references to literature, or the process of bringing out a book, but it will have a niche market interest.
Translated from the French, it is the story of Robert Dubois. His 'Dear Reader' is his fairly new and unwanted e-reader. He's a book publisher and less than keen on embracing the screen book, though forced to do so as he reads around the city, looking for the next publishing heavyweight. Whatever form the books take, why do so many of them subscribe to the 'boy meets girl' formulae?!
Robert is no longer young, and though he loves books, he is somewhat jaded with the system and what it churns out. We follow him as he works with old hands, schmoozes new writers, and tries to carve a path to keep literature and publishing on the route he would like it. With the office interns.
It's a short tale, and quite a funny read if you like reading about books and publishers. I wasn't sure at times what Robert was actually plotting. The funniest parts for me were the publisher interacting with and contemplating his Reader. Very amusing.
The afterword from the author I found absolutely incomprehensible. Something that should have been at the start maybe, along the lines of a code/rhythm to the way the text was written. Went over my head completely, and I wasn't going to read it a second time to work it out.
A pleasant and wryly funny short read.
Review of a Netgalley advance copy.
This is a read for those interested in how books are published. It's not full of references to literature, or the process of bringing out a book, but it will have a niche market interest.
Translated from the French, it is the story of Robert Dubois. His 'Dear Reader' is his fairly new and unwanted e-reader. He's a book publisher and less than keen on embracing the screen book, though forced to do so as he reads around the city, looking for the next publishing heavyweight. Whatever form the books take, why do so many of them subscribe to the 'boy meets girl' formulae?!
Robert is no longer young, and though he loves books, he is somewhat jaded with the system and what it churns out. We follow him as he works with old hands, schmoozes new writers, and tries to carve a path to keep literature and publishing on the route he would like it. With the office interns.
It's a short tale, and quite a funny read if you like reading about books and publishers. I wasn't sure at times what Robert was actually plotting. The funniest parts for me were the publisher interacting with and contemplating his Reader. Very amusing.
The afterword from the author I found absolutely incomprehensible. Something that should have been at the start maybe, along the lines of a code/rhythm to the way the text was written. Went over my head completely, and I wasn't going to read it a second time to work it out.
A pleasant and wryly funny short read.
Review of a Netgalley advance copy.
May 13, 2016
"It's a reader. A Kandle. An iClone. One of those gizmos"
"How do I go to the next page?"
"You turn pages by sliding the corner on the bottom."
"Like a book?"
"Yeah, that's the prehistoric side of it. A sop for seniors. When people have forgotten about books they'll wonder why it works that way. Vertical makes more sense. Scrolling down would be more logical."
"Jack Kerouac will be pleased."
She doesn't get it.
"La Liseuse" by Paul Fournel has been translated into English by the talented David Bellos as "Dear Reader".
The novel is narrated by Robert Dubois, former head and owner of his eponymous publishing house but now merely a senior employee there after a corporate take-over.
In a large part the story is a sentimental look, indeed largely a look back, to the world of literary publishing, and to the art of reading in general, and how it is challenged both by corporate pressures and technology - specifically the e-reader.
Dubois as a narrator has at times a strong (albeit potentially ironic) whiff of curmudgeonly old-fashioned man, in his views to e.g. relations between the sexes, not just publishing. Confronted by a MBA who suggests extensive market research before deciding which books to print, Dubois retorts:
"People have got into the awful habit of putting out books just too see how many copies they sell. It's called publishing."
The novel is packed with literary jokes and references - e.g. the Kerouac quip in my opening quote (a reference to the original manuscript of On the Road's being in the form of a scroll) - many specific to the French literary scene (Robert's new boss calls him "Gaston", a reference to the most distinguished of French publishers Gaston Gallimard).
The book is at it's strongest in describing the various aspects of the literary and publishing worlds. For example, commenting on book signings and talks, Gaston remarks of his favourite author as she answers the same repeated questions ("'Yes my book is entirely autobiographical' (as if reality were any mark of literary quality)"): "I sincerely admire Genevieve for underselling her work day in and day out",
And on the role of publishers and other stakeholders in forming the literary canon, Gaston tells an anxious intern who he has asked to opine on a new novel:
"What ought to reassure you is that literature's gatekeeper is not you. Nor are the writers themselves. Literature isn't something pre-existing that you insert into a text, it's a very complex construction that's built only with hindsight, and by all. Writers contribute to it, that's for sure, the publisher and the imprint certainly add their mark, but then it's for the media, the booksellers, the academy, and secondary and primary schools to decide. They don't agree with each other, they keep changing their views, and so literature never stops changing its boundaries and shape. Writers you thought had vanished make a comeback, and some you thought set up for eternity disappear. There's a hard core left over that everyone agrees about, but not everyone actually likes them."
It's at it's most warm when writing about the physical act of reading. E.g. contrasting the tactile experience of reading physical manuscripts to looking at them on his new e-reader:
"I sink onto the sofa, wrap my legs in a blanket, and read. My habitual technique is quite simple: I stack the pile of sheets on my paunch, and as I read I transfer them one by one to my chest. The increasing pressure on my ribcage gives me an accurate reading of how much work I have done. For the first twenty I read with great attention, as slowly as I can make myself read, then I speed up gently, allowing my professional experience and what I know of the author and the book's concept to take over - imagination does the rest. This is my semi-somnolent reading style, which constitutes my deepest mode of engagement with a text."
Compared to the e-reader:
"With a flick of the fingers I turn pages that don't fall on any pile. They depart body and soul to some imaginary place I can hardly imagine. My chest is anxious and gives me no guide to how far I've got. There's no noise of turning pages to break the silence of the house. I miss the slight breeze I used to feel on my neck from each page as it fell."
It's rather less successful when it attempts "a reflection on the future of reading" (author's postscript), with Dubois commissioning some interns to derive literature for the mobile age. It's not really Dubois's forte, nor the authors and the suggestions don't really convince.
There's also a slightly jarring side story of Dubois's wife, who we gradually realise is seriously ill, which seems to introduce an unnecessary element into what is at heart a rather light tale.
What is not obvious when reading is that the text is Oulipan, as explained in the author's postscript. (Which incidentally contains the wonderful phrase "anticipatory plagarists" to describe how Oulipan techniques can often be seen in works that pre-date the concept).
The particular constraint in this book doesn't really seem much of a constraint at all, and not one of those where you look back on the text with a sense of revelation. (Albeit it does explain the rather forced references to "cream" at various points.)
Although as with all Oulipan novels, the constraint is even greater for the translator, who has the additional constraint of fidelity to the existing story as well as the challenge of a different language. David Bellos - well known as the translator of Perec - tackles it with relish, and is to be commended.
For an excellent review that explains the Oulipan system used (and which enjoyed the book more than I did) see: http://messybooker.blogspot.co.uk/201...
"How do I go to the next page?"
"You turn pages by sliding the corner on the bottom."
"Like a book?"
"Yeah, that's the prehistoric side of it. A sop for seniors. When people have forgotten about books they'll wonder why it works that way. Vertical makes more sense. Scrolling down would be more logical."
"Jack Kerouac will be pleased."
She doesn't get it.
"La Liseuse" by Paul Fournel has been translated into English by the talented David Bellos as "Dear Reader".
The novel is narrated by Robert Dubois, former head and owner of his eponymous publishing house but now merely a senior employee there after a corporate take-over.
In a large part the story is a sentimental look, indeed largely a look back, to the world of literary publishing, and to the art of reading in general, and how it is challenged both by corporate pressures and technology - specifically the e-reader.
Dubois as a narrator has at times a strong (albeit potentially ironic) whiff of curmudgeonly old-fashioned man, in his views to e.g. relations between the sexes, not just publishing. Confronted by a MBA who suggests extensive market research before deciding which books to print, Dubois retorts:
"People have got into the awful habit of putting out books just too see how many copies they sell. It's called publishing."
The novel is packed with literary jokes and references - e.g. the Kerouac quip in my opening quote (a reference to the original manuscript of On the Road's being in the form of a scroll) - many specific to the French literary scene (Robert's new boss calls him "Gaston", a reference to the most distinguished of French publishers Gaston Gallimard).
The book is at it's strongest in describing the various aspects of the literary and publishing worlds. For example, commenting on book signings and talks, Gaston remarks of his favourite author as she answers the same repeated questions ("'Yes my book is entirely autobiographical' (as if reality were any mark of literary quality)"): "I sincerely admire Genevieve for underselling her work day in and day out",
And on the role of publishers and other stakeholders in forming the literary canon, Gaston tells an anxious intern who he has asked to opine on a new novel:
"What ought to reassure you is that literature's gatekeeper is not you. Nor are the writers themselves. Literature isn't something pre-existing that you insert into a text, it's a very complex construction that's built only with hindsight, and by all. Writers contribute to it, that's for sure, the publisher and the imprint certainly add their mark, but then it's for the media, the booksellers, the academy, and secondary and primary schools to decide. They don't agree with each other, they keep changing their views, and so literature never stops changing its boundaries and shape. Writers you thought had vanished make a comeback, and some you thought set up for eternity disappear. There's a hard core left over that everyone agrees about, but not everyone actually likes them."
It's at it's most warm when writing about the physical act of reading. E.g. contrasting the tactile experience of reading physical manuscripts to looking at them on his new e-reader:
"I sink onto the sofa, wrap my legs in a blanket, and read. My habitual technique is quite simple: I stack the pile of sheets on my paunch, and as I read I transfer them one by one to my chest. The increasing pressure on my ribcage gives me an accurate reading of how much work I have done. For the first twenty I read with great attention, as slowly as I can make myself read, then I speed up gently, allowing my professional experience and what I know of the author and the book's concept to take over - imagination does the rest. This is my semi-somnolent reading style, which constitutes my deepest mode of engagement with a text."
Compared to the e-reader:
"With a flick of the fingers I turn pages that don't fall on any pile. They depart body and soul to some imaginary place I can hardly imagine. My chest is anxious and gives me no guide to how far I've got. There's no noise of turning pages to break the silence of the house. I miss the slight breeze I used to feel on my neck from each page as it fell."
It's rather less successful when it attempts "a reflection on the future of reading" (author's postscript), with Dubois commissioning some interns to derive literature for the mobile age. It's not really Dubois's forte, nor the authors and the suggestions don't really convince.
There's also a slightly jarring side story of Dubois's wife, who we gradually realise is seriously ill, which seems to introduce an unnecessary element into what is at heart a rather light tale.
What is not obvious when reading is that the text is Oulipan, as explained in the author's postscript. (Which incidentally contains the wonderful phrase "anticipatory plagarists" to describe how Oulipan techniques can often be seen in works that pre-date the concept).
The particular constraint in this book doesn't really seem much of a constraint at all, and not one of those where you look back on the text with a sense of revelation. (Albeit it does explain the rather forced references to "cream" at various points.)
Although as with all Oulipan novels, the constraint is even greater for the translator, who has the additional constraint of fidelity to the existing story as well as the challenge of a different language. David Bellos - well known as the translator of Perec - tackles it with relish, and is to be commended.
For an excellent review that explains the Oulipan system used (and which enjoyed the book more than I did) see: http://messybooker.blogspot.co.uk/201...
March 8, 2015
You know, when the French know how to write, they really know how to write!
This is such a beautiful, nostalgic and bittersweet love letter to the book. The book that is published on paper, bound in some sort of cover, and sold in book stores, or stocked in libraries. The book that smells, feels, breathes. The book that's alive with literary wonder.
It's the story of a publisher who is struggling to accept the new reality of e-books. He is trying to read the new manuscripts in the cold shell of his sleek new e-book, but it's too impersonal. He can't bond with the words that he's reading through a screen. He can't edit properly. He just can't. But he's trying, trying to change and adjust. Trying to incorporate the new elements into his routine. But he comes back to the paper books every time. They are his fortress, his salvation. In them he is safe.
Bravo, Monseniur Fournel, you've crafted a real book that can withstand the new techno revolution!
This is such a beautiful, nostalgic and bittersweet love letter to the book. The book that is published on paper, bound in some sort of cover, and sold in book stores, or stocked in libraries. The book that smells, feels, breathes. The book that's alive with literary wonder.
It's the story of a publisher who is struggling to accept the new reality of e-books. He is trying to read the new manuscripts in the cold shell of his sleek new e-book, but it's too impersonal. He can't bond with the words that he's reading through a screen. He can't edit properly. He just can't. But he's trying, trying to change and adjust. Trying to incorporate the new elements into his routine. But he comes back to the paper books every time. They are his fortress, his salvation. In them he is safe.
Bravo, Monseniur Fournel, you've crafted a real book that can withstand the new techno revolution!
November 12, 2014
I enjoyed reading it. But, the gaps between chapters are confusing. The reader isn't informed how much time has passed, which makes it feel like we're given patches rather than the whole story. With that said, it was still an enjoyable read.
April 23, 2023
i really really struggled with this - the main character annoyed me so much and his comments about his female coworkers were so aggravating. its a good concept but i just found myself so confused? not sure if i just don’t get it or if it’s because of a translation error or something but i just really didn’t get on with this.
November 20, 2015
I thoroughly enjoyed this charming little book about the world of books and publishing – and, of course, reading. Robert Dubois is an old-school publisher gradually having to come to terms with new-school publishing, including getting his first e-reader (and there are some very funny and recognisable episodes with that!). It’s a gentle and affectionate satire which anyone with any experience of books will enjoy and relate to. Literary references abound – but you don’t need to get them all (although I got a nice smug feeling when I did). There’s also a very sad and touching sub-plot involving Robert’s wife, which adds a sombre note to the narrative, and definitely adds depth to it. I found the afterword a bit puzzling, and feel it really should have been a foreword to have any effect, but in any case it’s more for those interested in form rather than substance. All in all, a good read.
December 6, 2015
Velveeta that thinks it's Roquefort.
January 13, 2017
One of the joys of loving books is that you can have many affairs and remain faithful to any and all of them. That's one of the sub-textual takeaways from reading Dear Reader, which is not so much a linear narrative of the waning career of an ageing publisher as it is a loosely strung together series of moments behind the scenes an art form struggling against becoming an industry, where the need to make a living collides with the desire to make life.
Those looking for an actual story may be disappointed with the book's jump cuts from place to place and across unspecified periods of time, the characters that are not fully formed, and an ending that arrives too suddenly and goes . . .
The rewards of the book are found in the voices of the wise, witty and somewhat impish narrator and the jaded and yet hopeful writers, publicists and interns who have thrown their lot together to tell how books are born, raised and make their way in the world and into our beings.
The setting is Paris with side trips to the French countryside and London, but the author, Paul Fornel, is not one to dwell on physical descriptions of place, the following being a case in point: "The countryside looks awfully like countryside, there are leaves on the branches and grass in the fields, a cow underneath an apple tree, the authentic silence of the countryside, a few farm noises and a coating of green boredom spread thick all over the ground." Just passing through, as it were, with a clever turn of phrase now and then.
The sumptuous language is saved for--what else?--food: "The artichoke is a dish for the lonesome, because it is difficult to eat when facing someone else and quite divine when you're on your own. It is a contemplative legume, perfectly suited to dexterous foodies. First come the hard fleshy parts; then leaf by leaf, comes softer and subtler stuff. Green slowly shades into grey and then the last little cap of purple comes right off to reveal the beige tuft. As the texture changes so the sauce reinvigorates the taste. You take the trip at your own speed. There's no need to hurry an artichoke. You can suck a single leaf for minutes on end until it turns sour, or, on the contrary, you can snatch several leaves in a bunch and scour them with your front teeth to extract a solid mouthful. The only procedure that's out of bounds is guzzling. Artichokes require a degree of elegance. At long last you reach the entertaining removal of the tuft. You take the hair between your thumb and the side of your knife and, if pulled gently, it comes off in small, neat quiffs to reveal the heart in all its glory, in a startling and very brief simulation of sex."
I confess that I've never looked at artichokes in quite that way, but the passage made me want to dash off to the grocery store or, better yet, a French restaurant. Instead, I tucked in and savored the rest of Dear Reader.
Those looking for an actual story may be disappointed with the book's jump cuts from place to place and across unspecified periods of time, the characters that are not fully formed, and an ending that arrives too suddenly and goes . . .
The rewards of the book are found in the voices of the wise, witty and somewhat impish narrator and the jaded and yet hopeful writers, publicists and interns who have thrown their lot together to tell how books are born, raised and make their way in the world and into our beings.
The setting is Paris with side trips to the French countryside and London, but the author, Paul Fornel, is not one to dwell on physical descriptions of place, the following being a case in point: "The countryside looks awfully like countryside, there are leaves on the branches and grass in the fields, a cow underneath an apple tree, the authentic silence of the countryside, a few farm noises and a coating of green boredom spread thick all over the ground." Just passing through, as it were, with a clever turn of phrase now and then.
The sumptuous language is saved for--what else?--food: "The artichoke is a dish for the lonesome, because it is difficult to eat when facing someone else and quite divine when you're on your own. It is a contemplative legume, perfectly suited to dexterous foodies. First come the hard fleshy parts; then leaf by leaf, comes softer and subtler stuff. Green slowly shades into grey and then the last little cap of purple comes right off to reveal the beige tuft. As the texture changes so the sauce reinvigorates the taste. You take the trip at your own speed. There's no need to hurry an artichoke. You can suck a single leaf for minutes on end until it turns sour, or, on the contrary, you can snatch several leaves in a bunch and scour them with your front teeth to extract a solid mouthful. The only procedure that's out of bounds is guzzling. Artichokes require a degree of elegance. At long last you reach the entertaining removal of the tuft. You take the hair between your thumb and the side of your knife and, if pulled gently, it comes off in small, neat quiffs to reveal the heart in all its glory, in a startling and very brief simulation of sex."
I confess that I've never looked at artichokes in quite that way, but the passage made me want to dash off to the grocery store or, better yet, a French restaurant. Instead, I tucked in and savored the rest of Dear Reader.
February 25, 2015
In recent times I’ve reviewed a few books which lament the loss of the written word, writers being forced to modernise or books about writing (Eric Chevillard’s “The Author and Me) but nothing can hold a candle to “Dear Reader” by Paul Fournel.
As our “Afterword” points out, this is a novel which cannot be changed in any way, the editor can’t change sections, not even the punctuation, the reader can’t reinvent the work with different character names on their new gizmo eReader, the translator? Well they are well and truly stuck, it is impossible to recreate this work in another language (and note I’ve read the translated version)!! Why? Because it has been created to remain exactly as it was written. It contains 36 chapters, the first six all containing exactly 7,500 characters, including spaces, and each ending with the words, read, cream, publisher, mistake, self and evening. The next six chapters contain 6,500 characters (including spaces) ending with the same words, and so on down to the sixth set which consists of 2,500 characters (including spaces). Making the entire composition a “poem of 180,000 signs (including spaces)”. They “serve to narrate the fate of mortal man, they undergo attrition (melting snowball).” As Paul Fournel points out “anyone entering it to change a single letter will destroy the whole project.”
And the tale itself is the destruction of the book as we know it. Our first person narrator, Robert Dubois, is a publisher, who has sold his company to the highest bidder but still works in Dubois Publishing, reading books for a living:
For my full review go to http://messybooker.blogspot.com.au/
As our “Afterword” points out, this is a novel which cannot be changed in any way, the editor can’t change sections, not even the punctuation, the reader can’t reinvent the work with different character names on their new gizmo eReader, the translator? Well they are well and truly stuck, it is impossible to recreate this work in another language (and note I’ve read the translated version)!! Why? Because it has been created to remain exactly as it was written. It contains 36 chapters, the first six all containing exactly 7,500 characters, including spaces, and each ending with the words, read, cream, publisher, mistake, self and evening. The next six chapters contain 6,500 characters (including spaces) ending with the same words, and so on down to the sixth set which consists of 2,500 characters (including spaces). Making the entire composition a “poem of 180,000 signs (including spaces)”. They “serve to narrate the fate of mortal man, they undergo attrition (melting snowball).” As Paul Fournel points out “anyone entering it to change a single letter will destroy the whole project.”
And the tale itself is the destruction of the book as we know it. Our first person narrator, Robert Dubois, is a publisher, who has sold his company to the highest bidder but still works in Dubois Publishing, reading books for a living:
For my full review go to http://messybooker.blogspot.com.au/
March 10, 2019
ho appena finito di leggerlo e mi sento come se avessi avuto per le mani un piccolo capolavoro. Di quelli che ti mettono voglia di rileggerli, con la consapevolezza di aver lasciato indietro troppe cose che invece vanno recuperate e meditate. libro sull'editoria che parte dalle sfide della contemporaneità per ripiegarsi poi sui toni più intimi e toccanti della solitudine e della morte. Il protagonista è l'editore che avrei sempre voluto, tremendamente francese eppure per niente irritante, la scrittura è straordinaria (come straordinaria è la sorpresa finale, nota del traduttore inclusa). L'unica controindicazione è che la tristezza ti prende alle spalle, alla fine: uno crede di gioire assieme al protagonista della vita, della buona tavola, dei grandi libri, delle sfide editoriali, delle librerie a Charing Cross, dei bistrot sulla Senna e via dicendo-e poi si ritrova con una malinconia difficile da cancellare. Ma forse è proprio questo il segreto della sua bellezza. Consigliato a tutti
September 7, 2015
I received a copy of this book from Net Gallery for an honest review.
Paul Fournel is a novelist, former publisher and French cultural attache in London. He writes this short, (thankfully) book about the coming of age of e-readers. Interestingly, the reviews I've read called it charming, brilliant, witty. I found it none of these. The book was disjointed, the characterization poor, if at all. Sometimes the loss to me is in translation. I'm truly unsure though if this is the case for this book. It seemed more suited to be read by the publishing industry, and appeared to have much "insider" humour.
Paul Fournel is a novelist, former publisher and French cultural attache in London. He writes this short, (thankfully) book about the coming of age of e-readers. Interestingly, the reviews I've read called it charming, brilliant, witty. I found it none of these. The book was disjointed, the characterization poor, if at all. Sometimes the loss to me is in translation. I'm truly unsure though if this is the case for this book. It seemed more suited to be read by the publishing industry, and appeared to have much "insider" humour.
August 23, 2018
Vu le titre du livre, la maison d'éditions (chez P.O.L. tous les auteurs sont géniaux... sauf une) et l'auteur oulipien, je me disais que cela allait être un jackpot. Pourtant, le début m'a un peu inquiétée: il y avait à craindre que l'auteur, par l'intermédiaire de son personnage principal, allait râler contre le numérique, et d'ailleurs, il commençait déjà à sortir quelques poncifs (il nous a juste épargné l'odeur de l'encre et du papier... encore que), et l'absence de toute analyse à l'égard de ce phénomène complexe, ambigu et contradictoire que sont les ebooks m'agace au plus haut point, d'autant que je suis convaincue que Perec aurait apprécié et utilisé les possibilités du numérique... Bref, je me demandais si je n'allais pas abandonner... et heureusement que je ne l'ai pas fait! Car c'est exactement le livre que je voulais lire depuis longtemps. C'est drôle, inventif, plein de réflexions sur les livres et la lecture, je ne suis pas sûre qu'on se fasse l'idée exacte du travail des éditeurs mais la porte est un légèrement entrouverte, et il y aura de la place pour et Perec et pou l' Oulipo. Sans parler de LA contrainte que je n'ai évidemment pas perçue (l'auteur la dévoile et l'explique à la fin du livre) mais pressentie ou plutôt ressentie dans le rythme du texte à différents niveaux: syntaxique, syllabique, typographique mais aussi lexical: cela ne peut pas être un hasard si certains mots tout à fait anodins et habituels commencent tout à coup à capter votre attention. Et pour les amateurs, dont je fais partie, il y a aussi des mots rares et très précieux. Heureuse!
May 30, 2017
Many Unexpected Pleasures
O.K., let's be honest here. A French publisher comes to grips with an e-reader. What an opportunity for whinging, griping, and precious, twee hand-ringing about the superiority of paper and old-school publishing. The prospect left me trembling with a reader's version of fight-or-flight.
The good news is that this book is more gracious, generous, good-humored, and self-aware than I had any right to expect. Sure, there are labored bits about topics like "how to fit the e-reader into your suit coat pocket", and so on. But even those bits aren't too cutesy. Mostly what we get is a disjointed, stream of consciousness, playful reflection on the publishing business that occasionally circles back to e-commerce but mostly focuses on the life of a professional book publisher.
The very fact that the story is essentially plotless, disjointed, and almost aphoristic makes it interesting, and gives it a certain lightness and Gallic charm. This book is the opposite of self-important. While serious issues swim beneath the surface the reader can take them or leave them as he sees fit, and the author does not insist that the reader treat these issues except as the reader may be so inclined. I hate being bullied by books about books and reading, and this author is more of a wry, impish guide than stern lecturer. As a consequence, of course, the reader is drawn into issues of some importance, but obliquely and without condescension.
Here's a biting summary of the current state of publishing: " 'Anything wrong?' Sabine asks. 'You've come over quite pale.' 'No, nothing wrong. Just my regular one o'clock heart attack.' 'Have a drink.' ". With bits like that I'm willing to tolerate a certain pomposity regarding the wine being too "velvety".
Or, in a playful mode - "I like reps. Brave guys who start up a Peugeot diesel at dawn every day and set off to sell books when they could perfectly well be hitting the road to sell something else, for instance, something that people need and that doesn't have to be explained." If you like the refreshing offhand humor of those sorts of lines, then you'll probably like this book.
Bottom line - this was a book that surprised and occasionally delighted. It was sneaky and sometimes arresting. I was pleased to be reading it, which pretty much says it all.
(Note: This book was written, (and translated), observing Oulipo constrained writing techniques. If you're interested, the Afterword explains what that is and how it effected the creation of the work.)
(Please note that I received a free advance ecopy of this book without a review requirement, or any influence regarding review content should I choose to post a review. Apart from that I have no connection at all to either the author or the publisher of this book.)
O.K., let's be honest here. A French publisher comes to grips with an e-reader. What an opportunity for whinging, griping, and precious, twee hand-ringing about the superiority of paper and old-school publishing. The prospect left me trembling with a reader's version of fight-or-flight.
The good news is that this book is more gracious, generous, good-humored, and self-aware than I had any right to expect. Sure, there are labored bits about topics like "how to fit the e-reader into your suit coat pocket", and so on. But even those bits aren't too cutesy. Mostly what we get is a disjointed, stream of consciousness, playful reflection on the publishing business that occasionally circles back to e-commerce but mostly focuses on the life of a professional book publisher.
The very fact that the story is essentially plotless, disjointed, and almost aphoristic makes it interesting, and gives it a certain lightness and Gallic charm. This book is the opposite of self-important. While serious issues swim beneath the surface the reader can take them or leave them as he sees fit, and the author does not insist that the reader treat these issues except as the reader may be so inclined. I hate being bullied by books about books and reading, and this author is more of a wry, impish guide than stern lecturer. As a consequence, of course, the reader is drawn into issues of some importance, but obliquely and without condescension.
Here's a biting summary of the current state of publishing: " 'Anything wrong?' Sabine asks. 'You've come over quite pale.' 'No, nothing wrong. Just my regular one o'clock heart attack.' 'Have a drink.' ". With bits like that I'm willing to tolerate a certain pomposity regarding the wine being too "velvety".
Or, in a playful mode - "I like reps. Brave guys who start up a Peugeot diesel at dawn every day and set off to sell books when they could perfectly well be hitting the road to sell something else, for instance, something that people need and that doesn't have to be explained." If you like the refreshing offhand humor of those sorts of lines, then you'll probably like this book.
Bottom line - this was a book that surprised and occasionally delighted. It was sneaky and sometimes arresting. I was pleased to be reading it, which pretty much says it all.
(Note: This book was written, (and translated), observing Oulipo constrained writing techniques. If you're interested, the Afterword explains what that is and how it effected the creation of the work.)
(Please note that I received a free advance ecopy of this book without a review requirement, or any influence regarding review content should I choose to post a review. Apart from that I have no connection at all to either the author or the publisher of this book.)
February 22, 2015
I read this little book in pretty much one sitting and loved every moment. It focuses on an old school publisher getting to grips with new reading technology and is simply a delight. It is gentle and witty and a tribute to a love of reading in any and all formats. As a Waterstones-er the section spent visiting Daunt books really made me chuckle... close enough Monsieur Fournel :)
June 7, 2015
I enjoyed this book even before reading the afterword. A lovely story about an entertaining life in publishing, with the wit and irony of a seasoned insider who knows the limitations of their trade. Then I realized the constraints on the line and meter of each section, and that is a considerable, if frivolous, addition to what was already a cute novel.
April 17, 2017
"L'editoria è sempre in crisi. La crisi è la sua natura". Parola di Paul Fournel, scrittore e navigato editore francese, che in questo libro composto da sestine ci racconta come una casa editrice cerchi di affrontare l'avvento dei tablet, eReader, eBook e le sfide del digitale.
Il narratore protagonista sa sorprendere il lettore e mostrargli la vera umanità dei libri.
Il narratore protagonista sa sorprendere il lettore e mostrargli la vera umanità dei libri.
August 18, 2015
A charming book about books which I loved, but overall, I found that I was forcing myself to continue and finish.
2.5 stars
2.5 stars
April 1, 2024
if this account can offer you one piece of instruction, it is to read this book. This is a love letter to the written (or typed) word. It is satirical and funny and beautifully fleshed out. Dubois is the most wonderful character’s head to be in: I love how adaptive he is, as someone who could have just as well been a crotchety old publisher. His reception of one of those ‘new-fangled e-readers’ is just the beginning of a tale that explores how reading has metamorphosed.
I also felt my heart swell for Valentine (and Robwood), a gaggle of interns who were given creative freedom and who delivered. The pièce de résistance, however, is the author’s note at the end. The book is a sestina, with a spiral structure, and every sentence is of fixed length. Even as writing becomes a collaborative process, inviting readers to participate, amending this text would cause the poem to collapse. Fournel preserves the sanctity of what a book /is/.
(This book was anonymised: covered in brown paper, with a note explaining why it was to be read. I’m glad I did. Thank you, @blackwellbooks .)
I also felt my heart swell for Valentine (and Robwood), a gaggle of interns who were given creative freedom and who delivered. The pièce de résistance, however, is the author’s note at the end. The book is a sestina, with a spiral structure, and every sentence is of fixed length. Even as writing becomes a collaborative process, inviting readers to participate, amending this text would cause the poem to collapse. Fournel preserves the sanctity of what a book /is/.
(This book was anonymised: covered in brown paper, with a note explaining why it was to be read. I’m glad I did. Thank you, @blackwellbooks .)
August 25, 2018
Dear Reader is much like being in proximity of a lively conversation in that what I do catch is enjoyable and entices me to listen further, yet I am not fully invested. Maybe lack of involvement has to do with the text being a translation, because true meanings cannot truly be translated. However, Dear Reader is witty, has a satirical clarity about the world of publishing, and despite its disjointed chapters, is fairly engaging. I helped to imagine Robert Dubois as David Suchet doing a toned down Hercule Poirot. Honestly, this was going to be given a 3ish, but the last two chapters melted my reader's heart. It was in the last line that Dear Reader, his nickname for his electronic tablet, became Dear, Reader--a tribute to those, like myself, who love to curl up with a real paper book. How could this Book Booster not add in the extra star?
May 8, 2018
dnf @ 50 pages. I got this as one of those "blind date with a book" type things, so it's sad that I didn't get on with it. I've tried to read it once before and got a little further this time but I still couldn't get far. The thing is, this novel has no plot, something that I usually don't have a huge problem with, but there's just nothing of interest in here to redeem it. What little semblance of a story there is is choppy (which I'll graciously blame on the translation) and trite, revolving around the transition of books from print to ebooks, which is just something I'm not very interested in as for me, ebooks will never replace print books. Add to that a dash (well, more than a dash, really) of objectification of women and you have a book that just isn't very fun at all to read.
March 29, 2020
Un libro sul mondo dei libri e sull'editoria regalatomi da un'amica libraia.
La voce narrante è quella di un editore che si trova ad affrontare la novità degli e-reader. Li vede come una minaccia all'editoria tradizionale, ma decide di fondare una casa editrice che ha nell'innovazione la sua mission e in dei giovani stagisti i soci e il futuro della stessa.
La morte della moglie lo porta però a trincerarsi dietro un un muro di libri: quelli che avrebbe voluto leggere e che avevano ceduto il passo ai manoscritti da valutare.
La scelta è di lasciare la casa editrice ai giovani soci, di lasciare "morire" le nuove tecnologie, contatto con il mondo esterno e dedicarsi al suo muro di libri.
In fondo, con un po' di sforzo, delle nuove tecnologie si può anche fare a meno, dei libri no.
La voce narrante è quella di un editore che si trova ad affrontare la novità degli e-reader. Li vede come una minaccia all'editoria tradizionale, ma decide di fondare una casa editrice che ha nell'innovazione la sua mission e in dei giovani stagisti i soci e il futuro della stessa.
La morte della moglie lo porta però a trincerarsi dietro un un muro di libri: quelli che avrebbe voluto leggere e che avevano ceduto il passo ai manoscritti da valutare.
La scelta è di lasciare la casa editrice ai giovani soci, di lasciare "morire" le nuove tecnologie, contatto con il mondo esterno e dedicarsi al suo muro di libri.
In fondo, con un po' di sforzo, delle nuove tecnologie si può anche fare a meno, dei libri no.
May 28, 2024
L'avvento degli e-reader sconvolge le prassi di una casa editrice.
Gli editori e i lettori tradizionali, quelli che amano la carta, fanno fatica ad accettare le nuove modalità. Saranno le nuove generazioni a definire nuovi contenuti e strategie per sfruttare queste nuove opportunità di lettura.
Per me la lettura digitale è stata manna dal cielo, non ho sofferto per niente la novità che già risale al 2012, forse prima, anno in cui è stato scritto il libro.
Quello che mi mancava era il tempo di leggere tutto l'arretrato ma, con il digitale, ho ovviato anche a questo problema.
Proprio non capisco la necessità di avere il libro di carta perché quello che è importante non è il dispositivo, ma il contenuto.
Oltre al discorso ecologico, che ne guadagna, naturalmente.
Gli editori e i lettori tradizionali, quelli che amano la carta, fanno fatica ad accettare le nuove modalità. Saranno le nuove generazioni a definire nuovi contenuti e strategie per sfruttare queste nuove opportunità di lettura.
Per me la lettura digitale è stata manna dal cielo, non ho sofferto per niente la novità che già risale al 2012, forse prima, anno in cui è stato scritto il libro.
Quello che mi mancava era il tempo di leggere tutto l'arretrato ma, con il digitale, ho ovviato anche a questo problema.
Proprio non capisco la necessità di avere il libro di carta perché quello che è importante non è il dispositivo, ma il contenuto.
Oltre al discorso ecologico, che ne guadagna, naturalmente.
January 15, 2023
This novella could not have been written in anything but the first person and present tense. Otherwise it would make no sense for Fournel to have written it: a set of Oulipo constraints without a purpose (not that this hasn’t been done). For the most part, it is a rather dull entertainment that never loses the reader’s interest, especially if the reader, like me, has run a small literary press, like the narrator. It’s a bit too much of a beginner’s look at book publishing, but at the moment where technology (other than for book design) and the Internet are just starting to have an effect on this very backward industry. This is a book that’s definitely more than the sum of its parts. A 3.5.
December 12, 2019
Breve romanzo probabilmente più comprensibile per i lettori francesi (che vi riconosceranno anche le allusioni al loro mercato editoriale), si legge con piacevolezza e con qualche vaga nostalgia. Si tratta di una storia d’amore per i libri, la lettura ed anche per la vita tout court. La lacrima che un amico lettore mi aveva detto di averci versato, io non l’ho avuta ma è una onesta storia di buoni propositi. Interessante la nota della traduttrice, a termine del testo, per farci capire gli sforzi dello scrittore nel creare un testo da OULIPO.
January 9, 2023
The book is very interesting, and although at first it seems that we are talking about what difficulties exist in book publishing and which format of books will still win, in fact, life in its purest form turns out to be the focus of attention: family, work, humor, sadness, everything that weaves our life into that the only copy that maybe no one will read.
I liked the book and therefore I advise you to read it, because despite the small volume it will be able to infect a great mood and give a little humor, irony and self-criticism.
I liked the book and therefore I advise you to read it, because despite the small volume it will be able to infect a great mood and give a little humor, irony and self-criticism.
June 27, 2017
Un libro che vede un vecchio e un po' nostalgico editore alle prese con il suo primo ereader, all'inizio con diffidenza, poi imparando ad apprezzarne in parte le qualità, perchè i protagonisti alla fine sono sempre loro, i libri. E l'amore per la lettura. Da non perdere per tutti i curiosi e gli interessati a questa professione, sempre affascinante.
May 15, 2022
Four and a half stars: it took me a while to get engaged, then I found it engrossing and didn’t even notice it was oulipo until the Afterword (more shame me).
Funny, entertaining even when not funny, great characterisation, just the write subject and a lovely, well produced quality little book to hold (irony!).
Funny, entertaining even when not funny, great characterisation, just the write subject and a lovely, well produced quality little book to hold (irony!).
August 19, 2017
A delightful read. The story probably won't stay with me long, but as a lover of books, this was enjoyable as an ode to book lovers and books in general. An excellent translation, hats off to David Bellos!
December 23, 2019
Для уютной книжечки, которой, как мне кажется, "Читалка" кажется многим, в ней слишком много ужасного.
Ощущение по прочтению такие, словно пошёл в парк аттракционов повеселиться, а на твоих глазах человек свалился с колеса обозрения и его мозги по асфальту разметались.
Ощущение по прочтению такие, словно пошёл в парк аттракционов повеселиться, а на твоих глазах человек свалился с колеса обозрения и его мозги по асфальту разметались.
dnf
February 7, 2023Dnf @25%
Je n'ai pas vraiment réussi à rentrer dans l'histoire
Je me suis fait une fausse idée du livre, l'histoire était un peu différente de ce que je m'imaginais..
Je m'attendais en plus à quelque-chose d'assez drôle, mais en fait ce n'était pas particulièrement amusant.
Je n'ai pas vraiment réussi à rentrer dans l'histoire
Je me suis fait une fausse idée du livre, l'histoire était un peu différente de ce que je m'imaginais..
Je m'attendais en plus à quelque-chose d'assez drôle, mais en fait ce n'était pas particulièrement amusant.
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