Ostinato

by Louis-René des Forêts, Mary Ann Caws (Preface)

Written over an extended period, Ostinato is the long-awaited autobiography of Louis-René des Forêts, one of France's most beloved writers. A few sections of this remarkable text have been published in fragments over the years, and then, with some reluctance on the part of the author, as a series of fragments in France in 1997. The ostinato-a persistently repeated musical figure or rhythm-is a continual, stubborn, and essential element of certain musical pieces and of the life that emerges in this book. A series of connected, loosely chronological, imagistic reflections that form an emotional history, Ostinato is neither poetry nor prose. Rather, it is a kind of antibiography, in which the facts of this life are less important than the style in which they are rendered. What is there to tell that matters? Neither history, nor memory, but emotions. It is not the events that make this work possible to understand but the work that gives the life its form and its music. Louis-René des Forêts (1918–2000) lived in Paris. He was best known for his novels and poetry and was awarded the Grand Prix National des Lettres for the entirety of his work.

Genres: France, Biography, Literature, 20th Century, French Literature

153 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1997

Reviews

[Michael · Rating 5 out of 5]

Eine Antibiographie, in der sich das erzählerische Vertrauen auf die Wahrnehmung von Dingen und Zuständen richtet, nicht auf das Konstrukt des Ichs; zumal dieses Ich vom gegenwärtigen Erzähler durch ein ganzes Leben getrennt ist, durch Verlust, Krieg und Alter.
Auch das Bewußtsein, dass es die Sprache ist, die die Erinnerungen zum Ausdruck bringt, nicht die Person, die darum ringt.

"So wäre dies alles nur ein erdichteter Spuk! Und alles gehört ins Feuer?`
Laß nur. Die Zeit wird das besorgen."

Wunderbar ist Forets Schilderung der "inneren Sagenwelt" des Kindes, der Privatmythologie, die die Ursuppe aller Dichtung ist. In poetischen Augenblicken wird erzählt wider aller Bedenken, wider der Zumutung der Zeitläufte und des Schicksals.
Forets balanciert auf dem Hochseil, ins Straucheln gerät er nicht.

Friedhelm Kemp hat die Erinnerungen ins Deutsche übertragen, und auch wenn ich keinen Vergleich zum Original anstellen kann, bin ich sicher, dass die Übersetzung großartig ist.

Ins Feuer gehört OSTINATO keinesfalls, auch wenn die Flammen daran lecken.

[Bernard Convert · Rating 3 out of 5]

J'ai beaucoup aimé la première partie, les évocations de l'enfance, de la jeunesse, des jours heureux, dans une prose poétique lumineuse. J'ai détesté la seconde, où il s'interroge (semble-t-il, car ça devient un gloubi-boulga très opaque) sur son écriture avec (semble-t-il) un sentiment d'impuissance et d'échec qui m'a vite lassé.

[Gabrielle Danoux · Rating 5 out of 5]

Fragments ou aphorismes, notes ou proses poétiques, faux journal des vraies « couleurs, odeurs, rumeurs », poème en prose ou monologue intérieur ? Omniprésence de l'enfance dans ce monde « fragmentaire » qu'on aurait envie de citer à volonté.

[Alice Rovani · Rating 5 out of 5]

N’en déplaise aux « enragés du verbe », ce texte s’enfonce toujours à l’intérieur depuis l’extérieur impuissant. Le cercle est vicieux et contradictoire, c’est le chemin de l’homme au plus proche de ses lisières.
Entente cordiale avec l’écriture de Leiris

[Joe Milazzo · Rating 4 out of 5]

"Behind the too well-said, let us learn to read what is hidden there, that is hostile as well as inexpressible."

[Brian James · Rating 4 out of 5]

Written in a form similar to free verse, this is a challenging book in that there is no plot, or character, or really even any structure. It's more of a collection of the author's meditations on life, beginning with childhood and continuing into old age. The typical details of an autobiography, the who, where, and when, are absent from the text, choosing instead to focus on the emotion involved in the various events. What emerges is an insightful reflection on the individual's constant struggle to understand the world around him.

The true joy of this book comes in the language and imagery it evokes. The form this language takes requires the reader to move slowly, as often entire sections consist on one or two sentences with seemingly endless clauses. In a way, it's like reading philosophy, in the sense that you must continuously search to discover the core of the questions being posed.

The beginning section, in which the author presents his reflections on childhood, is brilliant. It manages to capture the confusion and wonder that comes with that period of life as the world seems to wash over us, leaving but a few events that remain permanently ingrained in our being. From there, the impressions that war leaves on a young man are also striking. Towards the end of the book, as the author attempts to understand the purpose of a life lived devoted to language, it can become a bit too esoteric, but never dull.