Las sombras errantes

Dernier Royaume #1

by Pascal Quignard

"À Paris, Richelieu fit venir son luthiste et lui demanda d'interpréter la chaconne intitulée Le Dernier Royaume. Puis il joua les Ombres qui errent, pièce dont François Couperin reprit le thème principal sous le nom Ombres errantes dans son dernier livre pour clavecin." Tel le claveciniste modelant sous ses doigts cet ailleurs sur lequel la société n'aurait pas de prises, Pascal Quignard nous propose un nouveau chant baroque en trois temps, que l'on peut lire dans l'ordre que l'on souhaite. Trois textes aux sujets transversaux et aux courts chapitres qui nous livrent de manière assez curieuse un Quignard interplanétaire. Un Ancien capable d'évoquer tout aussi bien la complainte du Jadis, brumeux et aquatique, bordant le temps comme l'être, que les bombes japonaises larguées sur Pearl Harbour. C'est que le Dernier royaume sous l'égide duquel se regroupent ces Ombres errantes, Sur le Jadis et Abîmes est toujours davantage grignoté par l'aura ombrée de ce qui fait obstacle à cette lumière ("phôs") où les Grecs enracinaient aussi le croître ("phuein"). Le propre de l'ombre réside il est vrai dans sa duplicité, parce que si c'est sous son aile que les premiers hommes se construisirent, si c'est elle que cherche encore en mourant le dernier roi des Romains, c'est aussi à l'ombre des tours que grandit le terrorisme, à l'ombre des regards que se monnaye au quotidien la dissolution de la conscience de soi.
Malgré tout, Quignard, pénétré des sages chinois ou des brahmanes qu'il convoque, demeure optimiste. Moment du retrait, occasion du repli, l'ombre reste ce dont tout peut advenir, ce qui met en suspens le monde marchandise où l'image à tout crin et le bruit ont désormais recouvert ces voix du silence qui sont la vraie parole. Qu'il distille selon son habitude quelques étymologies éclairantes, par exemple dans Ombres errantes, qu'il affronte ses thèmes de prédilection, le lien indéfectible au livre, la beauté des aurores, l'envers du sexe, l'art pariétal, le jansénisme, l'amour de la lecture, le délié de la pensée bouddhiste, Pascal Quignard fait du monde qu'il fuit, du temps originaire qu'il célèbre, du langage dont il (se) joue à merveille une magnifique chambre d'écho pour toutes nos interrogations tues. Le présent croqué par ce solitaire en fuite a beau s'en trouver étrillé comme un canasson fourbu, cette vieille Rossinante vaut mieux que tous les faux étalons avec lesquels on croit parcourir le vaste monde. À Jansénius avec qui il joua au volant, M. de Saint-Cyran affirme : "Il y a une ombre que ceux qui courent le plus vite ne déposent pas sur le sol." Quignard, lui, continue son combat, celui d'un homme aux bords ensoleillés des terrasses qui a tout perdu – sauf son ombre. In umbra voluptati. --Frédéric Grolleau

Genres: France, Nonfiction, French Literature, Philosophy, Contemporary, Literature, Essays

160 pages, Paperback

First published August 28, 2002

About the author

Romancier, poète et essayiste, Pascal Quignard est né en 1948. Après des études de philosophie, il entre aux Éditions Gallimard où il occupe les fonctions successives de lecteur, membre du comité de lecture et secrétaire général pour le développement éditorial. Il enseigne ensuite à l’Université de Vincennes et à l’École Pratique des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales. Il a fondé le festival d’opéra et de théâtre baroque de Versailles, qu’il dirige de 1990 à 1994. Par la suite, il démissionne de toutes ses fonctions pour se consacrer à son travail d’écrivain. L’essentiel de son oeuvre est disponible aux Éditions Gallimard, en collection blanche et en Folio.

===


Pascal Quignard is a French writer born in Verneuil-sur-Avre, Eure. In 2002 his novel Les Ombres errantes won the Prix Goncourt, France's top literary prize. Terrasse à Rome (Terrasse in Rome), received the French Academy prize in 2000, and Carus was awarded the "Prix des Critiques" in 1980.
One of Quignard's most famous works is the eighty-four "Little Treatises", first published in 1991 by Maeght. His most popular book is probably Tous les matins du monde (All the Mornings in the World), about 17th-century viola de gamba player Marin Marais and his teacher, Sainte-Colombe, which was adapted for the screen in 1991, by director Alain Corneau. Quignard wrote the screenplay of the film, in collaboration with Corneau. Tous les matins du monde, starring Jean-Pierre Marielle, Gérard Depardieu and son Guillaume Depardieu, was a tremendous success in France and sold 2 million tickets in the first year, and was subsequently distributed in 31 countries. The soundtrack was certified platinum (500,000 copies) and made musician Jordi Savall an international star.
The film was released in 1992 in the US.
Quignard has also translated works from the Latin (Albucius, Porcius Latro), Chinese (Kong-souen Long), and Greek (Lycophron) languages.

Reviews

[Adam Dalva · Rating 5 out of 5]

Stunning, evocative, and mysterious - flew through it. Sort of a combination of aphorisms, philosophy, lists, and flash stories.

[Ipsa · Rating 3 out of 5]

pascal quignard has heavy *old man yells at cloud* energy. this old man has a piece of the original apple stuck in his throat. so in this book, he incessantly laments the imagistic flattening of the world; the fact that people don't shit in dark, dingy corners anymore. the hyper-visibilisation of the ass and its consequences have been a disaster for the human race.

everything spirals out into the semiotic pollution of navel-gazing neurosis. nobody can write anymore because nobody is dipped in the roving shadows. there's nothing private to nurture. the auditory mechanisms of the world are being relentlessly raped by rotten self expression. langue vulgaire clawing at familiar intonations only. shadows still hound though. still stalk. prod. taunt. haunt. still beckon. skin still teems with night. see what happens if for once you don't subject yourself to verbal flattening, to a linguistic butchering. stay in the shade. do not write a quirky think-piece about it capturing the "spirit of our times."

not to be a cloud yeller myself, but shut the fuck up.

I would not really recommend this book though. it's very typically french. self indulgent. self referential. self fellating. also very erudite. expansive in its self absorption. boring. I've grown averse to this kind of vague poetic theory. meatless. teethless. removed. isolated. privileged.

[Philippe Malzieu · Rating 5 out of 5]

Quignard became Jansenist. He had left the brilliant and superficial atmosphere of Saint-Germain-des-Prés for the austerity of Burgundy. Alone, in his old house at the edge of Yonne, he undertook this cycle of 9 books, "Last kingdom". This is the first one.
At the same time time novel and essay, it is a literary construction by impressionist touch. Of the arrest of M.de Saint-Cyran at XVIIth until with the last word pronounced by Freud (Kriegpanic), of the commodore Perry to the lights of paddle, as of these small triviums to these great events, nothing is with the chance.
Quignard invent a new litterary organisation. It's an ambitious project.

"There is in reading a wait which does not seek to succeed. Reading is to wander. The reading is wandering.”

Quignard reduces its sentences. His style plays the epure by rigour et austerity with the risk to miss flesh sometimes. It is an act of solitary and slightly desperate resistance. To remember of the pre-digital time.
It is sublimely beautiful and nostalgic.

[Guillermo · Rating 5 out of 5]

«Forma parte de la estructura del lenguaje contener su propia tercera persona. El escritor, lo mismo que el pensador, saben quién es en ellos el verdadero narrador: la expresión. Yo hago lo siguiente: dejo que sea el lenguaje mismo el que pese, piense, penda, dependa».

[Guillermo Jiménez · Rating 5 out of 5]

De los libros más importantes que he tenido la fortuna de leer. En este libro, Quignard se adelanta a un estilista como Han, llegando más lejos y más profundo de lo que aquel a llegado. Incluso puede leerse como una antelación al Dominion, de Holland. Es de una belleza brutal. Dueño de una prosa que se lee como un material inmensamente fuerte y dúctil a un mismo tiempo. Un trabajo que fácilmente puede releerse, abrir el libro por un punto cualquiera y dejarse sumergir entre sus líneas, apartar la vista después de unos párrafos, cerrar los ojos, y dejarse llevar por el eco de sonidos que vienen de otro tiempo, de otro plano de realidad.

[Arun Lakshmanan · Rating 5 out of 5]

Pascal Quignard is cryptic - so many associations and incidents. Chapters (long and so short) begin as meditative quotes and then you are held by your hand and walked through a thicket of words and incidents and semantics – and across this path lies lush green pastures sometimes, sometimes more complex curves – as though you are travelling in the topological sub-manifolds of a Euclidean world.
You do not understand it all, you do not feel associations. Many feelings come to mind – all at once. Trash. Profound. Non associative but meditative. “He begins without apologies or context – does he write for himself alone?” “Did I miss this or the world?”….Hmm. Why interject nun’s child speaking in latin with medieval punishments, how does apology work in nature, dark blue clouds pierce through the sky and a swarm of butterflies have invaded the earth. Wait a minute – were we not in the middle of a treatise on how past cleverly hides in every cloaked amulet present tense throws on?

You do not know where you are going, when he will untangle his grip on your senses, but you like you are being led. You like the nowhere you will walk unaware. It is addictive – like waves slowly splashing on your dry sole by seashore – now touching now withdrawing enticingly. What will the next wave of words bring on? Who would associate shadows with eating by candle light and then end that synopsis with shadows as memories that transcend description. Tankzaki preferring Japanese, old wooden lavatories over puritan glazed ceramic – rubbing preface with Jesus sounding out betrayal in John 15:9.

[Bere Tarará · Rating 5 out of 5]

Belleza de libro, se termina en una sentada, prosa poética pura

[Bryce · Rating 5 out of 5]

Read this book if you wonder why FB cannot relieve our existential angst: perhaps we have become an echo standing before the mirror, real life has moved into the shadows...

[G · Rating 5 out of 5]

Un libro incandescente. Si bien se nota que al autor no le preocupa para nada, se deja ver en cada frase que sus palabras están encendidas. La densidad poética de Pascal Quignard es absoluta. Su erudición es un banquete. Sus obsesiones son las de cualquier lector que lea en carne viva. Sus hipótesis son brillantes, maduras, catárticas, redentoras. Dice que habría varios reinos, o por lo menos dos. Uno sería el reino corrompido del mundo en que vivimos, del mundo histórico, del mercado, de la fealdad, del lenguaje. Otro reino sería el de los sonidos previos al lenguaje, musical, prenatal, primitivo. El primero es digno de escape. El segundo es el destino del escape. La redención que propone Quignard radica en el acceso al segundo -el último reino- mediante ventanas incrustadas en el primero. Pareciera que el mundo cerrado del lenguaje, de la guerra, del mercado, de la fealdad inhumana, puede romperse mediante el arte, la lectura, la música, la introspección erudita que Quignard comparte en sus libros. El lenguaje, en este caso, funcionaría de una manera particular, antitética, sería un lenguaje contra el lenguaje. Las fisuras de su miseria serían los pasajes al último reino, que en la visión de Quignard parece ser eterno, luminoso y sombrío a la vez, pacífico pero intenso, beatífico. Opino que este libro es una maravilla literaria. No es habitual encontrar esa lucidez en autores que se han percatado de los límites oscuros del lenguaje. Quignard es más extremo aún: no rechaza las sombras, las transforma en luces. Opino que este libro es muy recomendable. Hay que leer todo Quignard.

[Black Glove · Rating 5 out of 5]

Purloined shadows
Written in aphoristic chapters, Quignard's The Roving Shadows is delicately philosophical, poetic, woven with kickshaws of historical anecdote and folkloric fragments.
Concerning itself with shadows (with the shadows-of-shadows), the author's sometimes hazy, sometimes lucid reflections on the human psyche reach from now into the distant past (& visa versa).
Clearly enigmatic: the writing entices, enchants, puzzles; its meaning teasingly sublime, artfully vague, insightful, deft.
If, on a sunny day, your shadow gained a life of its own and you watched it move away, I'm guessing you would follow it . . . (intrigued, amazed): that's what this volume is like - it stirs a perplexed curiosity.

[Tonymess · Rating 4 out of 5]

How do you review a book when you know the author is clearly, significantly more intelligent than yourself? How do you do justice to a work that elicits thought trains that dwindle on for days? What if there is no clear “plot”?

Apologies in advance if this is “review” clearly misses the point, or if it doesn’t even touch upon the core of Quignard’s premise.

Every shadow that envelopes our bodies is that of the scene that never comes into view, since it is the scene that is at our origins.
We could neither hear nor see those who made us, not what made us, not how it was done, before we were. It happens that human beings forget that they are not, before being.
But we lie: we always believe we heard something in the shadows, before being subject to the atmospheric air, before our eyes were opened to the light of the sun.
We were constructed in the shadows. Passively in the shadows. We are the fruits of the lidless ear of the shadows.

This is a totally fragmentary work, a collection of snippets, part fiction, part fact, researched in detail. A work that is described by the publisher as a “long meditation on reading and writing that strived to situate these otherwise innocuous activities in a profound relationship with sex and death.” The book starts out with a memory of being read to as a two-year-old. These early fragments referring to youth, to time passing, to reverting back to a childhood state, to “adoring time”, to “detest the now.”

As the title suggests, and the quote I have used above, this book consistently refers to the shadows, what lurks in the shadows? You cannot grasp a shadow?! You cannot jump a shadow! Just like the experience of reading this book, it is a work you cannot simply grasp, understand, you cannot jump over it and move on, it lingers. A book that is difficult to describe but it is a work you experience rather than simply read. Even though the art of writing and the subsequent action of reading is part of the thread linking the fragments, the physical connection of this book to your personal time and place is hard to deny.

For my full review go to http://messybooker.blogspot.com.au/20...

[Douglas Penick · Rating 4 out of 5]

A great contemplation of the flow of contradictory and unravelling strands that characterize western and westernized culture. Excellent English translation available from Seagull books.

[Lucía · Rating 4 out of 5]

Este libro es un puro aforismo. Prosa poética muy elevada y filosófica, bella y necesaria. Sus palabras son lugares de reflexión, es un artefacto literario de obligada relectura.

[Zoé · Rating 1 out of 5]

Très pénible

[Jack Rose · Rating 1 out of 5]

After reading many of the long reviews of Quignard's strange work that had been posted in GoodReads, but also The Economist's comments about it, in 2002, I had to try it on for myself.

This is how that review began: "IN FRANCE, as elsewhere, the literary row is a valuable tool in the publicity kit for the promotion of book prizes. When Pascal Quignard won this year's Prix Goncourt for "Les Ombres Errantes", several Paris critics complained of an elitist choice, grumbling that this was less a novel than an obscure and unreadable commonplace book. Others scoffed that the winning entry was what passes for experimental fiction among middlebrows."

It did not take me long to come to the conclusion that the "Paris critics" referred to in those lines were probably pretty close to the mark; the only exception I can take to those lines is that Les Ombres is not "commonplace". I also cannot say that I think that Quignard was of "right mind" when he wrote it. But to end on a positive note, I do believe that J.M.G. Le Clezio's L'Inconnu sur la Terre is a much better read, and can recommend that, instead.

[Antonio Jiménez · Rating 5 out of 5]

Quignard es un titán. Colosal. Quignard posee el don de (des)cifrar el tiempo y el lenguaje, de regalar escritos que son a veces insondables y, otras veces, revelaciones. Erudito que juguetea en esta obra con hilvanadas reflexiones sobre Historia, Filosofía, Literatura, Etimología.

Toda la obra «El Último Reino» (dividida en 12 tomos, de los que «Las sombras errantes» es el primero) de este genio de las letras puede resultar difícil de abordar y comprender en ciertos pasajes pero, ¿qué importa? El jugo no está en la comprensión absoluta sino en el deleite del discurrir de sus ríos y en la revelación (al menos parcial) de sus misterios.

Dejo aquí un fragmento:

«Las imágenes son prehumanas.
Datan de antes de las lenguas naturales en las bocas humanas.
Sostengo esta tesis: Lo que el sueño inventó en algunos animales fascina más allá de todo sentido.
La letra vuelta inútil, el significante sin significado, la moneda es el tercero de los deseos que se codician».

[Petya Kokudeva · Rating 5 out of 5]

Ако бих нарекла някое писане "мой тип", то "Скитащите сенки" без съмнение ще да са такова. Вътре всичко е поезия, без формално книгата да е поетична. Изреченията са вход към мисълта, а не самата мисъл - ефимерни, плаващи,теглещи навътре, не еднозначни, не доминантни, не устойчиви. Ама какво да говоря, ето една от най-любимите ми сенки-в-думи от книгата:

"Изкуството е най-малкото листо.
Най-слабото листо, защото е най-малкото сред растящите листа.
Винаги най-новото и следователно най-малкото.
Това е остатъкът от природата в културата. Това е раждането. Раждането се стреми да заживее наново във всяко нещо.
Изкуството познава само възражданията."

Както казва самият Киняр, тази книга е "малко усилие да се мисли за всичко".

Love.

[Pablo E · Rating 2 out of 5]

El primer volumen de la serie “Último reino” de Pascal Quignard, “Las sombras errantes”, ganó el premio Goncourt el año 2002. Una muestra de admiración y reconocimiento para un autor que advertía iniciar una obra o ciclo que hoy ya tiene 11 entregas (la última de ellas publicada el 2020), que en gran parte pueden encontrar en la editorial argentina @elcuencodeplata. Mi sorpresa no sólo fue encontrarme con un gran autor, sino con un tremendo intelectual. Con una prosa increíble, Quignard nos exige en cada página, que son un verdadero desafío al lector: advertencias de la situación mundial, metáforas provocadoras, antecedentes históricos, reflexiones sobre la literatura y creaciones artísticas, un análisis del origen de la vida y fin de la humanidad, entre las que destaqué. Un libro que el mismo autor define como “omnívoro” pues se alimenta de todo, incluso lo que ha sido descartado previamente, tanto en lo que a técnica se refiere como hechos o discusiones que se entregan en sus páginas.

“Las flores no viven más que en el año. En los hombres sube una savia que sobrepasa las estaciones. Es el pasado que los lleva desde lo anterior a lo que vendrá. Las flores no tienen pasado: no tienen siquiera estación. Su savia es la savia. Beben de lo Anterior en acto.
(...)
El tiempo como primero, el Primum Tempus, el tiempo como primera vez, el tiempo como última vez, el tiempo como melancolía, como moral, no existe más que para las sociedades humanas”.

[Tuhkatriin · Rating 4 out of 5]

Kõige rohkem meeldisid mulle need fragmendid või laastud, mis rääkisid lugusid ajaloolistest isikutest. Autori ühiskonnakriitika ja poliitilised seisukohad olid kompromissitud ja ühtisid tegelikult minugi maailmavaatega. Oli kohti, mis olid kaunid ja lummavad ning seejuures polnudki tähtis, kas ma sisu täielikult mõistsin. Ning siis olid mõtisklused, mida ma ei suutnud jälgida, mille sisu mulle ei avanenud.
Ehkki oma olemuselt fragmentaarne, olid raamatus siiski läbivad märksõnad, teemad, mille juurde autor üha tagasi pöördus, seega arvatavasti olemas teatav üldine ühendav mõte. Kuna tegemist on alles planeeritava suurteose esimese osaga, näib Quignard'i ees seisev töö herakleslik, kuna "Viimne kuningriik" tundub hõlmavat k õ i k e.
Ehkki ma ei küündinud alati teksti täieliku lahtimõtestamise tasemele, näis lugedes siiski, et tegemist on olulise ja kordamineva raamatuga. Kui eesti keeles ilmuksid ka järgmised osad, loeksin neidki, seda enam, et järelsõnas oli kirjas, et edaspidi on suurem osakaal just ajalooteemalistel jutustustel, mis mulle enim sobisid.
Mõtlesin praegu, et keerulisust ei tohi karta. Mis siis, et kohe kõigest aru ei saa. Just nii toimubki areng.

[Marifer Quintanilla · Rating 4 out of 5]

De las obras que he leído de Quignard –que no son pocas, pero son menos de lo que quisiera–, las que pertenecen a “El último reino” son sin duda las más complejas –en el sentido de entramado, hilos trenzados en un conjunto–, pero -a la vez- interesantes y reveladoras: reveladoras de él, de su erudición, de su capacidad de relacionar lenguaje, deseo, pulsión, ser, mito, filosofía… Lo que sea.

Este, el primer tomo ensaya temas sobre el ser, el último reino –el último rey de los romanos-, el lugar donde se encuentra lo perdido, el reino previo a la vida –la “umbra” en el seno de la madre– y la errancia a la que estamos condenados.

Leer es errar, escribe. Somos sombras que vamos errantes por el mundo, no sabemos de dónde nos hemos desprendido ni si hay un lugar al que llegar.


Por longitud, es un libro que se lee rápido; por contenido, no. A estos libros hay que darles el tiempo –y relecturas– necesario.

[Desislava Filipova · Rating 5 out of 5]

"Скитащите сенки" Паскал Киняр е една от най-особените книги, които съм чела. Странна и трудна за осмисляне комбинация от фрагменти. Няма сюжет, в класическия смисъл, в който сме свикнали да разглеждаме отделните нишки в историите, но все пак свързани помежду си. В тази книга сякаш са събрани стотици истории, отделни, но и неуловимо свързани от размислите, които са вплетени. Животът, красотата и изкуството са противопоставени на смъртта, грозотата и консуматорството, думите са противопоставени на образите. Книгата навява някаква тъга по изгубеното минало, по един ефирен и красив начин, усещане за тленност и преходност, защото смъртта има финалната дума във всяка една история и само думите и изкуството ще оцелеят.
"В четенето има едно очакване, което няма цел. Да четеш е като да скиташ."
"Изкуствата не познават прогреса. Прекрасното не познава времето."

[Tyler · Rating 5 out of 5]

A book that brought me sorrow, a text hovering between prose and fragments, filled with autocratic whims, leaving me unable to discern whether it is the shadow of Plato or Buddha. This book has greatly diminished my expectation towards my own creativity, as I realized that much of my past writing was a mere wandering among withered leaves (dead pages). Perhaps humanity lacks genuine creativity, which explains why our contemporary art keeps wandering back to the ancients. Many modern writers and directors now merely aim to construct a labyrinth with past languages and styles, a labyrinth of ruins, a maze for narcissists to admire. I can only console myself with the thought that humans need language to define themselves, and art requires monitors and storage devices to preserve moments in time.
另外，在這本書中我喜歡作家對漢語文學的想象與虛構，能在陌生的文學迷宮中看到熟悉的廢墟，總是一件快樂的事。

[Hélène Lamboley · Rating 3 out of 5]

Je trouve qu’il y a quelque chose de fascinant dans l’esthétique de l’obscur-clair et du silence de Pascal Quignard et une pureté dans le dépouillement de sa phrase mais je le préfère décidément narrateur qu’essayiste. Les passages où il se risque à théoriser sont à mon avis souvent obscurs et parfois même inélégants dans leur manière ampoulée de tourner autour de ce que la fiction ou les anecdotes font si bien comprendre. J’avoue que si je n’avais pas lu Tous les matins du monde, beaucoup de thèmes, de passages, d’idées seraient restés opaques pour moi. D’ailleurs, si j’ai bien compris la critique de la société de l’image, du bruit, de la méfiance envers la solitude et le silence de l’art, je n’ai pas très bien saisi ni sa pensée de l’Histoire ou de la sexualité.

[Barcino97 · Rating 3 out of 5]

Quignard advierte : con lo que escribo no se puede hacer nada, salvo errar, pues la lectura es es una errancia que no procura terminar. De acuerdo dicha advertencia uno puede disfrutar de su prosa episódica, distendida, erudita, surgente.

La experiencia con Las Sombras Errantes es opaca y, sin embargo, esclarecida por la lucidez de su autor. De todos modos hay pasajes en los que es inevitable preguntarse ¿en qué lugar del pensamiento me encuentro ? ¿hacia dónde me dirijo?

La respuesta es: hacia un espacio inalcanzable en el régimen de la luz.

[EU · Rating 4 out of 5]

Il est difficile d’écrire sur ce livre qui, par de nature et sa construction, ne se laisse pas emprisonner par d’autres mots. Ce n’est pas pour rien que Pascal Quignard est l’auteur d’une Rhétorique spéculative insistant sur le rôle des évocations, des images par opposition aux raisonnements. Ce premier tome du Dernier Royaume se tient dans cette zone mystérieuse où sont les ombres, où le passé et le présent ne sont qu’un.

[Vasil Tonovski · Rating 4 out of 5]

Хубава книга. Имам предвид текста. Макар че и книжното тяло е в отлично състояние, както се уверих преди малко. Иначе с удоволствие бих си я купил отново. По принцип. А сега ще трябва да изтичам за 11-ата книга от „Скитащото царство“. Обичам френската литература. И предпочитам Киняр пред Уелбек. Какво да се прави, модите са затова да се следват.

[Chuck LoPresti · Rating 3 out of 5]

For fans of Schwob, Borges only. Start more coherent and ends in what was for me sort of a shambling mess. There's profound moments - but sometimes it left me feeling less-than-profound. I prefer his more focused fiction. Maybe with more time and understanding it would have made a bigger impact. I prefer Schwob and Borges.

[māris šteinbergs · Rating 5 out of 5]

kaut kas brīnišķīgs un jocīgs ir šeit sarakstīts
kaut kas ļoti meditatīvs. pat mantrai līdzīgs. par pasaules vēsturi. par mākslu. literatūru. genocīdu. politiku. un viss vienkārši brīnišķīgi uzrakstīts

[Alexandra · Rating 4 out of 5]

The most harmful temptation known to man isn't evil. Or money. Or the stupefying pleasures and diverse ecstasies it brings in its wake. Or power and all the perversions to which it leads. Or sublimation and all the imaginary sentiments to which it gives rise. It is death.

[Etienne · Rating 4 out of 5]

Texte bien étrange et totalement impossible à catégoriser. Pensées, réflexion, allégorie, micro histoire, le tout est très fragmenté et particulier, mais j’avoue avoir été rejoint par la richesse de la langue et des réflexions. Je poursuivrai donc la lecture de cette «série».